White horses.

Desperate rocks claw at the cliffs, In fear of tumultuous waves: ready for bombardment. White horses rear up, Gallop and ride in fury, Heads forward. Nostrils flared. Icy manes blowing behind. No fear, all fury. Stampeding they come, Erupting in a sonorous clash! Spraying. Hissing. Neighing. Dark clouds, swirling in anger and contempt, Savage serpent tongues of lightning, Fork and twist, Bright and stark. Cracking. Sharp as a whip. Wounded rocks tumble and fall, Down into a swirling navy blue. Plunging into the foam, Sucked and swished, Over and over. Stallions continue to arch then wane, Cresting up and falling smack, Into the belly of the shore. Rippling an echo shockwave, Leaving only fine mist, As the last horse dies, Twisted and wounded, He and the rock sigh,