Purple Heron in the fog

Sajkovski Dejan publish photo

The dawn arrived softly, wrapped in silver—and there she was, the fog\\\'s most tender secret. She stepped through the reeds like a whispered sonnet, her feathers the deep, bruised purple of twilight\\\'s last sigh. The mist clung to her, trembling, as if afraid the world might steal her away. And when she raised her head, the whole marsh held its ...