New York City, December 15, 2015

★★★★ In place of another damp and sinister chunk of misplaced spring, the wind blew in an only slightly misplaced bit of fall, clean and bright-edged. Sun flooded the apartments high in the tower across the avenue, even as lamps still shone in the undispelled darkness lower down. Light shone through birds’ wingtips as they banked and flapped in the breeze. Where the blur of haze had been there was perfect focus. Little scratches and irregularities showed on the surfaces of the globes above the subway stairs; a crease could be seen on a window shade 10 or 11 stories up. The sun was warm on the back of the neck, and the gusts had no bite to them.