New York City, November 19, 2014

★★★ “The sun puts water in my eyes,” the three-year-old lamented, as the morning brightness met his congested head. The floors were cold underfoot. Crows, their throats bronze in the strong light, perched on the television antenna of the apartment block to the west. Now the leaves were bright red down on a cross street. Some distant birds flapped and glided on the wind, too quickly to find on the binoculars. At sundown, the northern sky glowed as strongly as the southern. A worker swept up dead leaves below the lumber frames awaiting the sidewalk Christmas trees. A Hampton Jitney stood in a no-standing zone. The supermarket was not warm enough to make the case for taking off the knit hat. The crosswalk signals were sticking with both icons showing at once. A dry, gloveless hand whistled when blown on.