The train is taking the curve,
metal wheels sharpening metal rails
and a speed-camera flash. It's dusk.
It hoots, it's mournful, and then it is
a grinding noise in the distance. Then gone.
The stars come out again. A frog moves.
The white horse is poured moonlight;
Assembled curves like an Arab alphabet
Cantering fluidly through its dark green medium.
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