Shingles
Old gnarled green shingles
Cupped and twisted, arthritic hands
resting comfortably on wide planked hemlock
above timbers of spruce and larch

Barnwood
Weathered but stolid
Peach like fibers
straining for freedom above their unplaned hosts
as the rain spreads it's ever darkening rivers
against the ancient boards

Doorways
dark and mysterious
Pungent with musk and straw
Hinting at the nature of the beasts within
Awakening the olefactory sense of by gone days

Brown eyes
Watching
Intelligent and empathetic
full of anticipation
High strung and imposing
dreaming of apples and carrots

Hair
Shiny and soft against the nap
Trembling beneath the brush
Shadows and light
Belying the long lean muscluture
of tone and symetry

Drums
Distant drums becoming louder
Dancing fetlock
Pounding hooves
Until it sounds like thunder on a slow track
under clearing skies
Pounding past the post in a photo finish

Screams
Cheers, curses, groans
shared equally among the trackside regulars
and sometime patrons of torn up tickets
and raceday dreams