Snow Gallops


Our Poem

The air is crisp in the harsh morning light.
The World that was green is now snowy white.
A lad has his hands full with a skittish colt.
Taut-muscled, wild eyed ready to bolt.
But with sharp work, precision, rhythmic beat,
They'll settle to walk down through the street
Of a town that echoes a thousand hooves,
People watch in awe as each thoroughbred moves.
With a snort they acknowledge festive mood and wit
As they arch their necks, snatch at the bit.

Soon rugged up and warm tugging at hay
Each gentle head can rest for the day.
With infinite care Lads dress them down
As Christmas night spreads its dark velvet gown.

Verse by Mary Lascelles

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