朝靄

Early morning in a mountain village, the afterglow of sleep still lingers. The morning mist that covers the mountain surface is like a thin silken veil, gliding through the valleys of the mountains and between the trees. Groves of trees emerge dimly from the mist, their outlines blending into an ethereal world.
In the stillness, you can faintly hear birds chirping and the sound of the river murmuring. A light breeze carries the mist along, changing its shape as it flows.