The snow is reduced to patches now, and the stream runs loud. The book I’m reading says there’s no such thing as a pure white horse.
The view from my front porch every morning, in 140 or fewer characters
The snow is reduced to patches now, and the stream runs loud. The book I’m reading says there’s no such thing as a pure white horse.
(The book is a new, horse-themed chapbook of poetry by Ann E. Michael, The Capable Heart.)
Unless it is an albino, a white horse is a grey. Even the famously-white Lippizaners are born dark and have dark skin.
What do we mean by “pure”?
The stream is loud here, too, today.
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