Riding; so quiet I can hear The hoofbeats falling on the snow. Only the grey crows career Noisily across the meadow. Under an unseen wizard's spell, The woods dream fairytale sleep. A pine I watch is lied up well Like a white handkerchief. And stooping like a crippled crone Bent over her stick half way Perched on the topmost point, alone, A woodpecker pecks away. I gallop on, in endless space. Snow falls, and softly knits its shawl. Ahead the highway bounds apace As ribbon unrolls from a ball.