Dew clings to the grass at Saratoga Springs.
Everything seems to slow down,
The track has turned green from brown.
The dark coat is lathered in sweat
Spattered everywhere with foamy flecks
Giant nostrils flaring
As they gulp down icy air.
Lungs are heaving:
The only sound’s the heavy breathing.
After a run on the course
Steam rolls off the tired horse:
Gets lost in the morning mist.