New York City, March 22, 2017

★★★ Dried leaves had emerged from somewhere to bounce and scuttle in the gusts. An ice bank in a planting bed had been undercut till there was a full cavern beneath it, with an aluminum can in its depths. The crosstown wind surged and then surged some more. Cornice decorations stuck out like saw teeth. The sun was high but there was no need for sunscreen under a hood pulled low. The black ice in the night held sharp crosshatchings where tires had crisscrossed when it was still soft, yielding slush.