New York City, December 8, 2014

★ Breath misted in the blue twilight where morning should have been. A light was on atop the apartments to the west, as if in the nighttime. Milky ice hugged the gutter beneath a breakfast cart. The 1 train was delayed and packed and ultimately possibly worse than a walk in the cold would have been. Sparrow song floated over the lower platform at Columbus Circle. The middle of the day made it to a dark gray and no further. Some puddles had melted and others were still iced, depending on the microclimate block by block, or on how much filth was dissolved in their water. The wind hurried the body along with a shove to the back. Building management had sent out a warning letter about the gale to come, and toward sunset the building itself began to wail.