August 30, 2017, 730 pm, 95 degrees
Heat still hangs heavy in the air. A gentle breeze passes by offering a sense of relief.
Four Mallards swim at twlight, sharing the river with the two fisherman.
A boater sits, casting his line into the shadows. A few walkers cross Fair Oaks Bridge, glowing red with sunburn. Others out for an evening stroll. An exuberant cyclist proclaims “descent” on his way across the bridge. The white Pekin duck joins his friends for a float trip. Likely abandoned by its human family, the Pekin has found a new home.
A dog barks. The next sound I hear is a faint and distant chorus of quacks. A group of six ducks float under the bridge as the sun sets below the horizon and shadows turn into darkness.