Lost another mitten to a trend that is hard to shed.
Meanwhile, the day started with a water creature -unidentified - cutting its way, through the surface of Lake Mendota. A hawk was calmly gliding overhead, with the sun having yet to claim the heavens, the moon, slightly incomplete, but still as bright as Noor's reflection, and the sky, a playground for a flock of gulls.
In the distance an airplane was heading south. I followed it, a bright dot traveling on a trajectory that remained parallel to dawn's crimson hued horizon. I followed it, until it disappeared, until there was nothing left to follow.
A new day starts, a new chance to perfect the art of being. Life is our playground; relax the policy book says. Life is your playground.
Be well, and if you can let the river take you downstream.
Bobbing about in white water
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