April skies in April waters.
A heron flares, cups wings, inserts into the fen.
A gull hangs, yaws in the breeze,
Ask why three times and you get somewhere interesting.
But finding out why is not a solution.
In any case, solution implies a problem.
There is no problem here, just the constant traction of an onshore wind.
The pale undersides of young leaves plume to the north.