I was cutting through the park when I saw the heron. The first time I’d ever seen a heron up close, Key West was new and I’d stopped to watch the bird as it waded near Houseboat Row. I wanted it to catch a fish, display it in its snorkel-tube throat, and swallow. Instead, its head disappeared into the turtle grass and came back up, shaking the blue crab that was stuck on its beak through a jagged hole in the shell. But this heron, today’s heron, flew, wings slapping the air, pushing down towards the sky.
Leaving Key West
