A Young Horse Floats in a Pond of Grass

{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: Justin S. (Whiteflame) | |

   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | || 
     Author: Whiteflame  
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   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | |
     Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame) |
     Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame)  
   }}
 }} |
 {{#ifeq: Justin S. (Whiteflame) | |
   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | | Authors: ' | 
     Authors: Whiteflame 
   }} | 
   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | |
     Authors: Justin S. (Whiteflame) |
     Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame) 
   }}
 }}

}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}

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<poem> The trees sway to and fro And under the stars, And under the moon, And the cry of the silvery loon, A rustling breeze Whispers to me, Words of peace, But not so clear, I only perceive a Continuous, undulating Static, upon the angular branches One, two; one, two A branch snaps and crashes.

It is a night such As that before a storm, The cool wind becomes more frigid, Numbing my body, I spread my arms, Close my eyes, The trees bend. The loon’s cry Echos, echos and resounds Across arching limbs, Softly dissolving into each other, Fingers of leaves fold And melt into green paint, Dripping from wooden brushes, Merging with the song into a pool Of verdant water, As the breeze ruffles my mane. </poem>

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