Frosted breath, frosted grass, frozen earth crunches with every step. Breathing in the brisk October morning air. It burns a little as I inhale, but also refreshes with every frosted breath exhaled. Morning sun rising slow, see the frosted grass shimmer, gliming like a field of diamonds. The frosted October morn enchanting all the more. The crow caws , and pecks at the ground. Searching for a morsel if there is any too be found.
– Jamie Whorton ©