One day, I YouTubed Greyhounds.
I have not met many in person—
They are quiet mostly
And noble looking,
Brushed with brindle, often,
Lean and arced, like impossible instruments
And so, a race I came across—
It was somwhere in the Middle East
Within the vast expanse of a desert flat.
They were lined up, ready—
Some jumped high in the air in excitement,
While other sat poised,
Held firm by their robed owners
And when the race began,
I watched them all bound onwards across the flat;
Racing, roaring onwards with such speed—
Coursing uncollared, deft and free.