Appaloosa -

The lemons ought to know;

two tendrils from the snow.

I wish I still could taste the sour juice they make.

Shapes in the distance grow.

Turning.

Dark.

Ominous.

Outlines in chaos run, dark spots against the sun.

Appaloosa on the loose, Appaloosa on the run.

Appaloosa tell the truth, Appaloosa where’ve you gone?