Outside there is a butterfly, large enough to be a bird, perched upon the waving tops of the peonies, and there are birds out here I've never seen.
A small insect trapped upon the surface of a pool will emanate circular ripples of intense frequency as it attempts to break free. If the pool is shallow enough, and brightly lit, these ripples will be mirrored beneath by dark, concentric shadows, shadows which will often retain a remarkable symmetry, despite the frantic, drowning tangle of limbs from which they originate.
The insect, though certainly dying, will never really dip beneath the surface. It is held suspended by the confusing slick that marks the boundary between hot air and deep water. Even in death, the body will float rather than sink, until a bird or bat swoops low to rescue and devour.