Legs

Whistle screams to sound the beginning
of these legs around this roaring place.

Dirt will fly, up to the sky while
the horses shout peeling about.

Dragging the curves from end to end
exhaling dark elements from tail pipes end.

Smacking pavement, clashing metal,
rolling all over this circular shelter.

Winds blow by, swirling between sprinters
shining light under this darkened drive.

Nearing the closing colorful papers wave
the striders past the line of eyes posing.

Screeching halt, legs are doll,
from there roaring thunderous thrill,
sleep now till other ventures call about.