New York City, July 8, 2015

★★ Umbrellas were out for no real reason; whatever drops were falling were indistinguishable from the usual ambient blowing liquid. Sparrows tumbled under the low bottom bar of the playground fence, fighting or coupling. The sycamores had been dropping shreds of bark on the green concrete. A platoon of older kids in swimsuits swarmed the fountain, some of them grappling in the spray. The northwestern sky blued a little. The three-year-old came running up, bright-eyed and intent, to report collateral damage from someone’s water balloon. By the three o’clock hour, gloom had taken over.