White Horses

A stray horse,

Reared itself from the green and blue,

And laid itself at my feet.

I saw it fall and reached down,

But it slipped away,

Through my fingers.

I saw it run back,

Carried upon the current,

Swept back to foamy embrace,

Of its brethren.

Another ran in, leaping joyously,

Arching through thin air,

Bitter cold, no barrier to its surge,

I felt it’s tongue,

The sharp sting,

The icy tendril,

Lashing against bare skin,

Shivers sent, toe to head.

And more came,

Mad, frantic dash,

Racing one another,

To reach me first,

To knock me back upon the sand,

And pause,

Momentarily,

Rearing,

White horses of the sea,

Visitors, tight maned and firm of tail,

Towards the beach,

And where I stand.

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