The Big Race Is On

Bang! crackles the gun The big race is on Arms pump the air Heads bob everywhere Legs and feet churn Elbows angle, turn Into the first curve Rabbit-swift, they swerve Perspiration streaming down From their chins to the ground Faces grim, taut and tight Heel-toe they alight As the last bend they round Piston-like legs pound the ground Then the lunge for the tape Exhausted, they drape Their arms o'er each other Comrades-in-sweat, newly brothers ~ Though only the sprinter who's won Takes a victory lap when it's done