Hooves of March
(Inspired by the Cheltenham Festival, March 11, 2008)
Beneath the gray Gloucestershire sky,
the earth awakens with the sound of flight —
hooves striking like drums of time,
each beat a heartbeat of courage and light.
Mud and wind weave fleeting art,
a spray of motion, muscle, grace —
and in that instant, horse and heart
merge, forgetting all but the race.
Crowds roar, yet the moment feels still,
a breath suspended, fierce and true —
between the starting gate and will,
lies all the faith the rider knew.
For victory isn’t gold or fame,
but rhythm found in fleeting pace —
a dance of strength that none can tame,
a meeting of soul, and speed, and grace.
When silence falls, the track grows dim,
the echoes fade, the day moves on —
but somewhere in the mist’s gray rim,
the thunder of hooves still lingers on.
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| Where thunder meets earth, the spirit of the horse writes its own verse. |
Reflection:
The rhythm of hooves at Cheltenham is more than sport — it’s the eternal song of trust between horse and human. Each stride speaks of partnership, resilience, and the fragile beauty of pursuit. In that fleeting thunder, we glimpse what it means to give everything — not for applause, but for the love of motion, the call of freedom, and the poetry of the earth beneath our feet.
