Two Old Stallions
Forward spring the horses
Eager, reaching strides
Ears alert and muscles ready;
Wildly rolling eyes.
The bay, with coat of flaming red,
Extends across the track.
His tail behind cascading down
And flickering mane coal black.
The second -- stormy gray in color,
An ivory tail he sports --
Engages the bay with pounding hooves
And fierce, emphatic snorts.
Neck and neck, with no surrender,
Their stout hearts set on triumph.
Hearing no sound save beating hooves
They gallop yet, defiant.
The gray gains inches, laboring,
His dark eyes glint; heart drumming.
But the bay will not capitulate
He toils on, still running.
Stallions snorting fire,
Fence posts blinking by.
The gray is surging past the bay
His long legs, flashing, fly.
He drives beyond the straining bay
The latter grunts, annoyed.
The former claims his victory
And throws a buck of joy.
The stallion stops and turns around
He nickers to the bay.
Two old friends, both retired
Reliving glory days.
-- Miriam Parrish