the dance over the water

I live in a house by a lake called Corbin, the house has many rooms but my favorite room by far is the sunroom. It is my favorite not because of how it’s decorated, but because of all the windows. Three of the four walls are entirely made up of windows. I absolutely love sunshine and how it makes me feel so alive; I also love the beauty of the outdoors, so it follows naturally that the sunroom is the room I spend most of my time in. Upon sitting down at my computer to begin writing, I noticed the movement of a figure in my peripheral vision. I turned to see two big blue herons flying together over the water. I have seen a blue heron at the lake many times before, but always a solitary one.  Every time I see one, I stop what I’m doing and just stare, totally rapt. Their majestic beauty captivates me and I forget all else while I watch their graceful and seemingly calculated movements. But before today I had never seen two, let alone two flying together, and upon watching them I was struck by how much their graceful flight reminded me of a dance. The one flew ahead, and the other followed suit. Their wingspan was so long, their feathers sweeping over the ripples in the water made by the strong winds. Their bellies were barely above the surface of the water. The confidence and self-awareness with which they flew so close to the water, one after the other, surprised me. I was totally captivated by the beauty and rhythm with which they danced across the water with one another, not wanting it to end. Perhaps they were searching for a fish for lunch, hoping to be lucky enough to get one that leapt out of the water in its own dance, as they often do. Or perhaps they were flirting with one another. Whatever their purpose, it was an utterly captivating dance, on that was rhythmic and full of beauty. After viewing such a happening, I was prompted to pray; so I prayed for eyes to see the dances all around us, dances that too often go unnoticed.