Answer:
Thirty white horses on a red hill, first they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.
The root tops the trunk on this backward thing, that grows in the winter and dies in the spring.
A hole in a pole, though I fill a hole in white. I'm used more by the day, and less by the night.
I run around the city, but I never move.
How can you burn an apple, blueberry, rose and pumpkin without leaving any ashes but retaining the smell of it?
People take me on walks and I run and have fun. What am I?