The West Pennine Moors

I sit, lie and lean, my eyes on the distant twilight. The landscape seems to breathe, the silhouettes rise and fall. Winter Hill stands there, loyally guarding my childhood. Closer to the West, Rivington Pike is there. Still there. Maybe I am, too. Maybe I'll never leave this place. I'm still ten years old. Happy, … Continue reading The West Pennine Moors