My daughter’s house is in the flight path between Atlanta and Chattanooga.  Jets flying over create beautiful contrails, clouds that form when water vapor condenses and freezes around small particles that exist in the aircraft exhaust.  After taking these photos, I found a lovely poem about contrails.

…under the flight path

contrails float by at a snail’s crawl
once carried the weight beyond afar
white cotton candy coming unspun..
unwinding, unfolding, floating magically
like a butterfly’s bon voyage…
fluttering felicity glides with
sunhair drafts in the fickle spindrift breeze
dandelion’s drift seed’s flight
to be sewn in distant horizons
my seed beneath up, up and away
disperse floating fluffy parachutes
delicate pink pearlescent textures awakened~
pink moon … oh! pink moon rise and shine
oh! pink moon come hither my heart
purr as soft as tufted intimate touch
whisper softly aneath
sky’s wispy pink cirrus azure

by harlon rivers

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Flight Path

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