Scene From a Bike Ride

Like a royal parade, they waddled across the well traveled thoroughfare teeming with autos crawling to a stop; otherwise road rage reduced to admiration. The regal drake held his head high—his eyes piercing straight ahead—oblivious to the traffic. The obeisance of his trailing brace reflected a solemn reverence to their chief. A mother hen shot an evil eye to a baby Donald who quickly got back in step before exiting onto the dew laden emerald grass—Glistering. With the aura of a spa for creatures bearing wings or fins or tails, as well as feet, the pond awaited them—one by one quacking with pleasure as they entered. As we mounted our bikes to continue our ride, auto horns began to honk and obscene words abated the serene ambiance.