[a poem]
Spirits lifting to the strong, steady clip-clop rhythm of hoofbeats on country lanes…

Inhaling fresh summer scents, feeling warm breezes, hearing birds chirping,
tiny creatures scurrying, leaves rustling, and glimpsing distant peaks….

Drifting off to sleep to the patter of gentle rain on trailer roof or tent,
listening to the munching sounds of horses grazing …

Waking to hear soft equine snuffling in the dawn mist, enticing smells of sizzling  
breakfast, chatter of nearby friends planning the day’s adventures...

Crunching of carriage wheels on gravely roads, quiet woodsy trails and grassy fields,
pungent smells of sweaty hide and steamy manure...

Trotting through glorious autumn colors along a babbling brook, hearing the call of
loons from nearby ponds, or spotting a vee of geese overhead...

     ... all savored from a moving seat that hearkens back to times past,
when horses and horse-drawn wagons were the favored means of travel
besides one's own two feet.

Pair driving horses in Acadia National Park, Maine