The mist gently rolls low to the grass. Delicate drops of dew lazily roll from side to side in the crab grass almost ready to make the slide to the earth. The sun eases gently through the mist and gently dismisses it to the creek. The low-lying cobwebs look like miniature hammocks made from ethereal gossamer. The stillness is punctuated with only the birds gathering for their flight lessons. The Flights of Fall Training time has approached.
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