ALL THE PRETTY LITTLE HORSES
A line of horses smoothly pacing
Past the windows of our bus,
Heads to flanks, manes streaming,
They look like poetry in motion to us.
Splashed white, silver and golden,
Dapples, duns, roans and bays,
Chestnut, smutty, palominos,
Buckskin, creme and smoky grays.
Flaxen manes and tails flow past
Like Neptune’s steeds upon the waves,
Slipping from our view at last,
Icelandic horses on their way.
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