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
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