New York City, February 19, 2017

★★ Sunrise took the little clouds from purple into pink. For a while they had whitened to a metallic sheen, but then they lost their shine and their shape with it. The warmth was disproportionate and totally unjustified; it was not enough for t-shirts alone but people went with it anyway. The worker putting trash bags in the sidewalk cans sang loudly and hailed passersby. Boulders of snow stood separately from one another on the unpeopled green of the Sheep Meadow, the ruins or remains of snowmen. Saddle horses stood immense and placid unto motionlessness, awaiting riders. A shirtless runner overtook and passed a bicyclist in a parka with a fur-rimmed hood.