Bathing birds

Yesterday on our way to Bren Bataclan’s studio in Boston’s South End, J and wandered unfamiliar streets, snapping random photos. I often come home from such photo-walks with individual images that don’t tell a particular story: just a picture here and another there. The above photo is a classic example. What kind of story might I tell about three birds–two starlings and a house sparrow–bathing in a parking lot puddle, a photo I shot through a chain-link fence as the afternoon sun slanted toward evening, their shapes silhouetted and reflected among silent ripples?