New York City, June 3, 2015

★★★ A sunbeam came through the mottled cloud cover and found the little alley where a man stood. Breeze tossed the flax blooming opportunistically where last year’s opportunistic jimsonweed had been cleared away. By afternoon, the sky had gone over to white and blue. Jackhammers rattled down by the street and a cool slow breeze moved along the roof. Old rainwater streamed from the cushions on the seats when they were flipped up to dry. There was enough wireless signal to work in the sun on the fire escape, if not up top. By commuting time, the chill was almost autumnal. Contemplation of a disappointingly cottony white nectarine was interrupted by the three-year-old calling “Look at the sky!” and a view of pink gauze, pink stripes, and a sort of shapeless pink shimmer southmost.