A sculpted head looks out to the West,
a snort escapes and he arches his neck.
He can hear his rider counting down the year,
and he awaits for her to erupt in mighty cheer.
He prances and returns to the comfort of his barn.
And looks at the other horses of the farm.
They listen as her voice rises in anticipation,
and he watches his breath disappear in the precipitation.
He paws the ground as he hears six and five,
he brings his body up above all, and then dives.
The number one is called out with triumphant ring,
and the horses neigh in joyous union for what it brings.
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