The goat bursts from the chute, a blur,
hooves skimming dust and sunlight,
the rider drops, rope in a practiced whir.
A swing, a loop, the lasso snaps,
hands firm, heart pounding,
feet skid, and the ground grips their wraps.
The goat struggles, jerks, twists free,
the timer ticks like a drum,
every second a pulse of urgency.
Hands dart, rope coils, quick and tight,
hooves thump, the dust swirls high,
victory hangs in the fleeting fight.
The tie holds, the buzzer screams,
the rider rises, breathless and proud,
the crowd erupts, applauding the fleeting dreams