There is something about a heron, unlike anything else. It’s as big as an eagle, but it flies as low as a goose. When you are walking through the woods and you come across a stream or a lake, you may miss the heron entirely – it knows how to be completely still. It’s strong; every beat from its wings is of power, so too its stance. It so simply is. If you’ve ever been by a heron nest, you know how big the nests can be by how loud the baby herons are. For some reason, they are so loud, but their parents are so quiet. I think that says something about the love of a parent or grandparent or uncle or cousin or niece…love is an action and a silence. It is a fireworks display or a house built of gold. It is unique and universal and special. It is flying low from the peace of the water to the noisy, bustling nest of twigs and branches.