A cloudy day.  The city sits dark

beneath the clouds.

Solid with roads, bridges, buildings, runways

yet moving too, the cars, the trains and taxiing planes

beneath the grey clouds.


We rise.  The brilliant sun illuminates

a dazzling cloudscape.

Impenetrable white in the constant light.

The faithful propeller spins, keeping us above

The whipped cream clouds.  A cloudy day.


2 thoughts on “Flying

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