The drive is scenic
as only a Wednesday in summer can be:
bright plexiglass air
beneath a sky towering like a deep breath,
and trying to watch a near-desolate road
with sudden hairpins
like a friend’s distracted storytelling
while stealing glimpses of the white thoroughbreds
gathered and glowing like a neon fog
against a small knoll. 

They move among themselves
blurry and indistinct,
a patch of morning hanging well into the afternoon.