Лунная, туманная

The moon hangs low, casting a silver path across the glassy surface of the river, where mist rises like a breath from the earth. The wooden pier, weathered and quiet, leads the eye into the hazy distance, where faint silhouettes of trees and a distant village emerge from the fog. It is a moment suspended in time—peaceful, introspective, and deeply serene. The air is thick with stillness, broken only by the soft ripple of water against wood. This is the quiet heart of summer nights in the countryside, where nature holds its breath under the watchful gaze of the moon.