The world keeps turning. Once you get on, there's no stopping the forward movement.

Running along the lakefront; Lake Michigan, a massive, brooding body of water, it occurs to me that the lake is a mirror of the sky, I, a mirror of sky and water.

Moods range from smooth, crystal-blue, placidity to a violent, muddy gray. Each day distinctly different. Sometimes the difference is so subtle, its almost imperceptible.

This is how one grows old.

Must not cling to the moment, (fat, red, sun breaking across the water) which reveals an orange/pink glow promising love and grace always.