Blue Heron waded through the rippling waters, the longings for home growing stronger inside her. Following the trail of light shimmering in the water, she saw the full moon glowing on the horizon. Awed by the beauty, Heron’s heartache softened. Her spirit brightened and she began to sing. The vibration of her song flowed along the river currents. She danced her blue heron dance, splashing in the water, leaving her tracks in the mud.
Inside the rhythms of her blue heron song
she felt the whispers of sweet rememberings
winds rustling feathers
lands moving far below
flying side by side by side
following ancient pathways
trusting instinctive knowings
guided by the earth’s seasons
the moon and the stars.
Blue Heron stepped to the river’s edge, opened wide her wings, and lifted up into the air to fly. She flew for many days, many moons, and many miles, hungry to find her way home. When she crossed the great waters, a storm blew into her path. She soared with the winds racing in from the north. She danced with the lightning and thunder. She found shelter and rested. She showered gratitude into the rains.
When the storm clouds passed by, there just ahead, filling the sky, were herons as far as she could see. Blue Heron soared gracefully toward her flock, weaving her way into the flowing tapestry of undulating wings.