humidity convene like spies
inside the hollows
of a bright Manhattan sun –clouds of happy apprehension
rig suspension of the day
the Weather Channel told youmight be fair. It won’t be fair.
It’s never fair.
Beatrix Potter Springsare rare in New York City:
plan for chilly March or sodden
mid-July. That’s a meteorologicalprognosis upon which you
may decide, in May,
you might rely.Except for when you can’t.
Evidence for anything is scant.