The morning was damp and mild, almost sultry. A gossamer
veil of mist cloaked the voluptuous curves of the river as she wandered
languidly to the coast. An orange flash
burst into the tranquil setting as a brightly clad cyclist pedalled by, a
harsh, incongruent note, at odds with the muted colours of the autumn leaves
littering the river bank. But the
interruption was momentary. A heron stood motionless, his grey plumage fading
into the mist like a whisper on a breeze.
Autumn had arrived, offering teasing reminders of the summer past and a
glimpse of the winter to come
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