The Race

Liquid gold sunlight poured through towering clouds, while warm thermals lifted

lazily through the atmosphere.  Ian and Casey turned their winged friends toward home.  Powerful wingbeats drummed out

a soothing rhythm, propelling them easily through the late afternoon sky.

Excitement still lingered from a day spent at the annual Airship Festival.  With an unspoken word, the boys looked at each other and grinned.

A wink, then a nod, they each clutched a handful of mane.  The slightest leg pressure was all that was needed,

the horse’s powerful wings caught the air, and with a great downward thrust, they were off.

The race had begun.