Times Square, the news banners circling like birds of prey. I walk with "Fat Freddy" our mobile watering tank to the triangle on 444th street we call the cabbage patch. In blues, reds and yellows the tulips are sprouting--some already smashed by a homeless guy trying to catch a morning snooze. He straightens up as I start to spray around him. I mildly chastise hm; he denies crushing the flowers; I let it go. Perhaps the news messages are not circling birds of prey.

Yet they never rest and always seem hungry. The flowers at least grow. Against a blue blue and so sun sunny sky. It finally seems like spring.