A Heart’s Gait

Lit Up — November’s Prompt: 55er

A wind ruffles the trees standing around us in anticipation.
Their leaves applaud, drawing glares from a torrid sun.
It blows a cloud our way for contest.
Closing my eyes, I stroke your neck.
You respond with a rebellious neigh.
Our sprint beats the ground.
Sky our only match.
Breaths break free.
Hearts laugh.
Victorious!