JOCKEY Do not disturb his pace as he buckets nor cool the clammy fever of his flexors. He tests his own parameters of ambition. The bug boy gone, he speeds his lithesome way where those sharp instincts lead him towards the sunken wire, urging, balancing skill, sense, management on 90 stones of horseflesh lightning in a bottle. See how he splits the air like an antelope knees forward, bottom raised, sleek, his taut concentration spelling the agony and ecstasy of challenge. Jump behind him on the saddle and the wind will slap your face like desert sandstorms, thread fingers through your hair slicing it open like a book, the parting white as snowflakes. Wagerers’ hopes ride pillion on his back holding tight to his potential. Esprit de corps rides conduct. Look at the soft nature of their relationship as he blows confidence into equine ears. As his lips froth like the stayer’s beneath him, exhilaration collateral , the furlongs shrink, responding. . Somewhere at the back of his reflexes a nerve, a tendon, is ready to snap.
Posted on: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 08:38:21 +0000
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