A flock of birds flies out over the water, their wings flicker in unison. They turn back quick, changing colors. Their one side is dark, and the other is white. They zigzag in front of me five or seven times, finally settle on their first heading, and then they’re gone.
There’s another flock floating around out there. One dunks its head beneath the surface and disappears. The others follow, one every ten or fifteen seconds, until there’s one left. That last one just stays up on the water.