Steed - English Quintain Contest

Sweltering sun on his beaded sweat His iron hoofs hammered the dry parched grass Native winds did part his black mane offset Heaving nostrils breathing fire flaring past Wild spirits burst in his running heart unsurpassed Sinew and stamina pulsed in perfect time Galloping veins popping with every stride Precision and purity surged in his royal blood sublime This nomads journey held its course and was his to guide His head was held with majesty, this steed of sanguine pride August 10, 2010