Running in a frosty dawn

Cold mist flowing above the valley floor, a ghostly river. Grassblades and leaf edges decorated by a white perfection, crystals of solid water, water vapour manifesting its presence. The sun struggles to throw aside the coral bedclothes if its sleep, so that it can transmute the solid water into invisibility. The river bathes itself with the blues and pinks of newborn day, its brown depths hidden. The earth is brittle under my feet. Air cracks in my nose, breath leaves a cloudy trail running in the frosty dawn.