Simple Steps . . .

Flickr test

Heron

Early morning sunbeams feel their way through the bare branches along the creek bank, and make tentative splashes as they hit the cheerful water.  They grope their way up the hill, highlighting a lone runner making her way downwards as she sets out for her morning exercise.  

The early morning sunbeams steal across the bridge as the runner jogs across. She looks over at the water below, just as she does every morning, never tiring of the sight. In the summer she can see fish darting about, turtles sunning themselves on logs, sometimes even a small snake.  In the fall she enjoys the small armada of golden leaves floating away in the current, the sun striking them, turning them into molton metal.

But today is late winter, and there isn't much to see. Just as she begins to turn her head away and wonder about other things, he rises up out of the creek, taking her breath away with the spreading of his great, grey wings.

He lifts off, but only half heartedly, as he lands just a few feet from where he had been fishing. He ruffles his feathers at her, and daintly lifts a long slender leg out of the water, stepping carefully amongst the rocks. He throws a quick glance back at the bridge to see if she's watching him.

She is. 

She stands stock still, not wanting to scare him further away. The soft breeze blows the white crest on top of his head, and she's struck once again at how dinosaur-like he is. She holds her breath as she looks him straight in his bottomless black eyes, and he ever so slowly bows his grey head at her as once more he spreads his great, grey wings and floats down the stream, the early morning sunbeams glowing all around him.