The horses grazed in mountain’s grass.
In the night there hung a broken moon
A funny joker moon laughing a sputter,
Previously hung by the mountain edges
Along with the non-sticky white clouds.
Mountains had a big soul of butter ice.
They some days rumbled like in thunder.
On other days they had apple blossoms
Along rough edges off the giddy roads.
The horses pooped peacefully on snow.