Final version:

The riders who pass by

Cannot help but look down

On the walker with his stick

Who raises it in salute;

They flick their riding crops.

Their horses’ harsh clip clops

Override his mud-softened steps;

Their tailored jackets are unbesplattered,

Boots clean and stirrups shiny:

They know their place

And I know mine.

The riders who pass by

Cannot help but look down

On the walker with his stick

Who raises it in salute;

     They flick their riding crops.

Their horses’ hooves harsh clip clops

Override his mud-softened steps;

Their tailored jackets are unbesplattered,

Boots clean and stirrups shiny:

They know their place

     And I know mine.

So, I've fiddled about with the punctuation; added an s to clop and indented the final lines of each verse to make a link between those two lines.  I am still wondering if I should remove hooves as it is, really,  tautologous.  I'll see how I feel tomorrow.

I've made a lot of changes. I think now that I will revert to first person at the end. It gives a cleaner finish as they polish salesman said. I keep changing the punctuation, too.

The riders who pass (me) by

Cannot help but look down

On the walker with his stick

Who raises it in salute.

They flick their riding crops.

Their horses’ hooves harsh clip clop

Override his mud-softened steps,

Their tailored jackets are unbesplattered,

Boots clean and stirrups shiny.

They know their place

And I know mine.

Some little changes there, you’ll see.

I was going to put hides his mud softened steps, then thought overrides which is so much more suitable.

Should it be clip clops

Override… ?

And what to do with the final two lines?

Their well-fitted jackets unbesplattered,

boots and stirrups still shiny.

I don’t like ‘still’

Close-fitting?  Unbesmirched? 

This last experience interests me.  Those opposites or contrasts are so clear. Maybe a bit too obvious.

The riders who pass me by

Cannot help but look down on me

The riders who pass me by

Cannot help but look down

On the walker with his stick

He raises it in salute

They flick their riding crops

Their harsh clip clop

A contrast to his mud softened footsteps

Their well-fitted jackets

Unbesplattered, boots and stirrups still shiny.

As I’ve turned this into third person, the ‘me’ in the first line has to go.  Perhaps ‘He’ could be ‘who’.

Let it be a lesson to me to make proper notes in my notebook!   Like I tell everyone else.

Snowhills, lines picked out in white the furrows horizontal; dark trees on the horizon, standing like Apache warriors ready to descend in old westerns. Snow then mud.  All weathers surround this tiny place, thick walls, new windows hardly shaken by the wind, rain and hail batter fruitlessly. Draw the curtains, pull down the blind and we are isolated. No let’s see and hear the weather. Indifferent to us but remorseless. We can’t help but see things from our angle. Dogs distant barking, ring of angle grinder somewhere in a farm shed; tractors readying for the next campaign.

What this reminds me is that the more you recall, the more there is to recall.  Keep at it.

The face in the boughs; a stone face should be in a fancy garden; horses heads ornamental by the garden path that leads up the slope to nowhere. Dry stone walls and dry stone walls… 

The horse riders who pass me by. I raise my stick; they flick their riding crops. My boots padded with mud; theirs shiny black in shiny stirrups; their well cut tight fit clothes are unbespattered. My footfalls almost silent; their shod hooves loud – hard stuff on hard stuff.

Visiting fellow poet Bernard Young, I was intrigued by his ongoing Blip fotos. Each day he uploads a photo and a poem. Each day!  Makes me feel quite lazy. Yesterday he put up a picture of me and asked me to write a poem. On the spot. Well here it is:

http://www.blipfoto.com/entry/1734632

Hoping to gain inspiration from the Yorkshire Moors and coast next week. Results when I return will be posted here!