Thunder Day

Morning.
Thunder rolls,
though the sky is clear.
The ground begins pounding
like the heartbeat of elation,
or fear,
as tons of graceful muscle rush by.

Noontime.
A crowd waits impatiently
for a tinny voice to shout "And they're off!",
and a controlled stampede
strives for speed.

Afternoon,
and the sound of wooden wheels
rattling over gravel,
following a genteel pace
down a lane lined with whispering green.

Evening
in an old barn, warm with life's breath.
A thump on a wooden floor,
an explosive snort,
when a loving hand is placed beneath a soft nose.