Oct 182014
A colt in the downfall
Will whinny and jerk
As if each flake
Were pins of hurt.

It's brown coat shivers
With galvanic grace,
A whistling whinny
Escaping its face.

When done with wheeling
In circular panic,
It waits while the whiteness
Becomes emphatic.

Breathing steam in fits,
Neither cursed nor blessed,
It stands too still--
Listless, indifferent.

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