A beautiful passage describing the morning fog

A thin layer of milky white air like yarn rippled gently on the ears of wheat.

A mist rose, floated across the Don River, spread along the slope of the white limestone peak, and got into the cliff, like a headless gray-green snake.

There is fog on the river, and the fog rises from the river and is milky white. The fog is clear and transparent. The breeze blows, pushes the fog, moves, stagnates, condenses and scatters. Peaks, houses, fences and haystacks are covered with endless white gauze, which looks ethereal, mysterious and beautiful.

The morning mist, like a milky gauze, is dreamlike and poetic, and it can't be waved away. It is constantly torn and cut off, blocking my sight and making people feel like they are outside the cloud nine.