Over the hills and over the dales
we sped, the horse and I
feeling the wind through hair and mane
as we raced toward the sky

We got to the point where the arrow sent
us where the seashore greets the cliffs
winding our way down the slippery bends
myself, and the stallion named Whisk

We walked along leaving prints in the sand
to be carried away by the tide
Then I mounted again and off we rode
the stallion lengthened his stride

Once again we were on top of the cliffs
To see fields resembling a patchwork quilt
I spurred Whisk to sprout wings and jump
over the fields' stone walls without any guilt

A sudden breeze caused a movement
casting golden ripples over wheat
the poppies raised their scarlet heads
In the strength of the midday heat

Rabbits scurried, birds took flight
as we hurried past green fields and gold
as the stallion thundered across the quilt
of nature and man's centuries untold

We arrived at the stable, he and I
both breathless from the ride
to settle again until another time
when we would head toward the tide