The Spirit in the Sand

The sun is orange warm,
The wind is icy cool,
The dust is a rampant swarm,
The sky admires your form.

You turn to the left,
You turn to the right,
And nothing about you is tight,
You make a ton look light.

You start with a walk,
As nimble as a cat,
You bob like water, floating a cork.
You start to sweat.

You embrace a trot,
As soon as you are warm,
Your lines seem to move as one,
Your elegance is so effortless

You would rather do something more fun.
Your master spats and hisses,
As you defy her words,
And your deception fires, but misses.

You are running now,
Its nearly the end,
And your pride?
You are trying desperately to mend.

You have achieved exactly what you intended,
Your session, has now ended,
The wind still cools and moves,
The sun is now tepid.