Drifting, I saw it drifting
A sea of snow sliding
Moving like a river
As if on skates, gliding
And the moor was white.

Twinkling, it shone
The snow glistened
I stopped, took off my hat
And I listened,
And the moor was quiet.

There were tracks
Footprints from a bird
I admired its path it took
I put back on my hat and heard
The moor seemed to whisper to me.

The wind brushed my face
And persuaded me to stroll
And there on its side
Was a new born foal.

It was alert, looking for shelter
Cold, hungry and in desperate need.
The moor was a lonely place
I gave it all I had so it could feed.
And the moor fell silent.

I made my way through the woods
Out of the drifting snow
The foal followed me to a path
And I showed him the way to go.
Back to the moor twinkling and white.