Comments about rosemary huntley
Morning On Dartmoor
A fragile sun seeps through the mist.
Silver webs shine and quiver.
Breath mingles with silent air in a morning kiss.
Moving shadows midst the gorse,
A soft whinny, a muffled hoof,
A moment and then gone.
Lured forward in a magic world,
We stumble onward, bewitched.
Dartmoor enfolds us for a beartbeat in time