Sleigh Ride

With this day of new cold and the year coming to an end. I want to share with you a poem I call "Sleigh Ride." It took place in Danbury, Connecticut many years ago.

A weathered barn in withered red,

stands clear with in memory,

and every time it starts to snow

old thoughts return to Danbury.

It was a barn like no other,

mystic, magic, somehow serene

With tack and harness set in place,

yet something else that can't be seen.

An inner warmth, an eminence,

an aura shine you cannot view,

perhaps the light of keeper's soul

the one who mends and tends unto.

This heart of his and equine heat

oft' stays the cold of winter's sting

and keeps the frost from off the bells

that trim the reins and give the ring.

In boarded stall, the horses sense

the quiet fall of downy flake.

They paw the straw and perk an ear

and gently give their heads a shake.

Across the way, past field white,

'top harvest chaff and stubble hay,

children question with excitement,

"Sir, are you hitching up the sleigh?"

The answers quick with pure delight,

"The team is set to trot the snow",

said the smiling friendly neighbor,

a child too, who wants to go.