Soaring seven feet above the swaying saw-grass sung Sammy the Blue Heron. True to his name, Sammy was singing the blues.
There once was…a day
Not so long…ago
At 50 years old, Sammy was the oldest Ardea Herodias in the history of the species. Big Cranky, as he was called by some, swung to the left and then back to the right remembering the tales the old-birds told about the People of the Glades, Ponce de Leon and the pirates.
In the ev…er glades
Where gators…did grow
The Great Blue Heron circled to the left. His wings extended as far as they could. Sammy’s long neck craned as he scoured the shriveling river of grass. Even in his lifetime, he recalled a day when his glades were bustling with life, food was plentiful and the water deep.
When I could…alight
And swallow…Fish whole
A warm easterly breeze from the Atlantic Ocean began to blow in the face of the setting sun, lifting Sammy to a higher vantage point.
My home’s go…ing dry
Got nowhere…to go
The solitary bird suddenly felt like he was no longer alone. A new strength filled his wings. He heard a voice whisper in his ear, “Can I sing a few lines?”
There once was…a time
My Spirit…did flow
Sammy started to soar higher as the song of the wind blew in his ear. The presence of the voice made his eyes sharpen in focus.
Then man turned…around
Took over…the show
The revelation of who he was flying with caused Sammy’s wings to go limp. But, the strength of Him who was now singing kept the Great Blue Heron in the air.
Yet now is…the time
When I they…will know
Higher and higher the strength of the voice carried Sammy. Greater height had no Heron ever flown. The entire river of grass lay below him. The setting sun seemingly lit the everglades on fire as the transparent veins created by airboat trails turned crimson. For that moment, Sammy’s habitat looked like a heart with fire red-blood cursing through it. The everglades came to life right below Sammy’s eyes.
The next morning, Gabby Gator glided towards Mr. Heron’s home.
“Morning, Sammy. Got a blues song for today?”
“Not going to sing anymore blues, Gabby. The Creator flew with me last night and says things are going to change.”
“Yes, the Creator. He came in on an easterly breeze. Do you remember the days before we were sandwiched between Disney World and Fort Lauderdale? There were thousands of my kind and even more of yours? It’s going to be even bigger, even better. The Creator’s Spirit is going to start blowing, Gabby, and when it does, we need to be ready.”
“Ready for what, Sammy?”
“For the day of the Creator, Gabby Gator. Now, you will have to excuse me. I have to take off. I got a new song to sing. No more blues, Mr. Gator. I’ve traded my blues in for praise, and I just have to sing it.”
“What should I do, Sammy?”
“Tell the rest to start singing a new song, Gabby. Our history was good, but the Creator’s future is even better.”
Sammy then spread his big blue wings and took off in flight, soaring above the rustling saw-grass with a new grace.
The River…of Grass
Is starting…to grow
God’s River…of life
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