This is how I tell whether it's a nice day.
I can't see the sun -
it's blocked by rectangular prisms,
steel frames filled with concrete and life -
but as it makes its journey across the sky,
it increasingly illuminates the picket fence and stony facade,
the lanky tree stripped by Fall and beaten by Winter.
Another shrub (and these are indeed rare sights in this jungle)
gives evidence of a new season,
of fifty-something degree weather.
Turning a new leaf, so to speak.
I see all this from the dining room window.
The sky is beautifully blue
with scattered misty clouds hanging low.
This is how I tell weather.
It's a nice day.