Marquez T Woods May 13th, 2021
Bare spots in the wintry skyline are more obvious from the pavement.
To step into the relief of sunlight is to leave the protection of charcoal architecture - to be burdened by the cheek-burning wind.
The same wind that makes dead leaves dance in your favorite park bites at your fingertips in the early months.
The same force that carried ancient birds across the Hudson rides avenues alongside bike messengers and tries its hardest to throw your baseball cap into the street.
It hopes that, if it can bewilder enough pedestrians, New York might return to a misty forest of evergreens.
In the early months, sunlight is more gentle with you. Do not mistake it as an ally; it wants the same reversion.
When the season turns, golden caresses upon your face become asphalt-melting inescapable waves of heat.
The same force that once pulled seedlings through the bed of earth in Time Square pulls droplets of sweat from your face and leaves them sprinting for relief alongside your sideburns.
It hopes that, if it can make you long for the ocean, you’ll excuse yourself from the urbanized dystopia, and it can reclaim its natural state.
The wind chuckles in the distance, knowing you beg for it though you call it by a different name now. It sneers at you with a wet dose of satisfaction trailing behind your local train.
Be grateful for the merciful touches each force gives you - in the early months and when the season turns.