Upon the air the moon is high
The darkness floats into the night
As it runs across the sky
And gets into a flurry fight
The snow then comes sparkling down
Shimmer, glimmers as it falls
And drifts upon the silent town
In the hay and in the stalls
The air is cold, their breath is hot
They stomp their feet and breathe a neigh
They wear warm blankets that we’d bought
As they bed down to rest in hay
The town is silent as it rests
The snow looks charming, at its best.
–Amber Hopwood
Riding a horse is not a gentle hobby, to be picked up and laid down like a game of solitaire. It is a grand passion. It seizes a person whole and, once it has done so, he will have to accept that his life will be radically changed.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
He usually knows when you’re happy,
He usually knows when you’re sad,
But he always knows when you have carrots.
Author unknown
Somewhere in time’s own space,
there must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow,
some paradise where the horses go:
For, by the love that guides my pen,
I know great horses live again.
–Stanley Harrison
Horse sense is the thing a horse has
that keeps him from betting on people.
—W.C. Fields
© 2006-2010 Merriewold Morgans, LLC
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