Slow Horse Race

They glide as if they were in a campbell horse race
neck to neck white against the gray sky
attempting to win an escape from their atmospheric trap.
the wind whips them harder and harder
as if it were the shouts of passionate gamblers.
the whipped clouds melts into one another no longer can an end or
beginning be distingusted, as they race through in the
spheric atmosphere, all meaning lost in the
white of speed.