The statue-still unicorn

Waits in the night-dark forest

For the unknown and unconcieved signal

There is not even a wind-whisper of night-forest sounds

Still the white-gleaming unicorn stands

A dream-wisp mist swirls around him

Twinkle-white stars glimmering through

Imperceptibly-slowly the unicorn raises his ivory-magic horn

He gracefully leaps to the now perceived signal

Stirring the silence into adoration-glad release

The white-pure unicorn races to the known-unknown

Leaving a night-empty forest.

Joanna Ballard - Nov. 17, 1981