The scorching sun burns the red cinder stones,
six athletes , stretching, retching at their zones
100 yards of white lines leading on,
the hungry heat haze blinding into one.
House coloured vests itching on the neck,
perspiration pouring down the fleshy decks.
To their marks, then “set” on the treacly track
awaiting the cannon of the gunman’s crack.
The “bang” then prompts the forward thrust,
the straightening of backs and the plumes of dust,
of the fiery feet that slide and glide
carrying the weight of the legs that stride
arm action pumping, calves will assessed,
lactic acid building, fatigued in the test,
determination tried, biding the time,
lunging for the dip of the quenching line.
