Our Poem

An Autumn sky all shades of blue
Laced with pink in a golden hue
At peace, astride, a joyful heart,
Of September's song you're now apart
A raking stride, hooves that pound,
Sun dried turf, sweet scented ground.
A heath that seems to never end,
Mellow, rich, an artist's blend.

Verse by Mary Lascelles

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