Looking out the window of the airplane as we cruised toward the east coast, it seemed as if I were gazing at a vast arctic landscape. The tops of the clouds formed a continuous sheet of ice, thinner in places, broken by a few bits of blue ocean. The tops of puffy, cumulus clouds were the mountains, rising here and there in the landscape. As my mind wandered, I imagined intrepid voyagers, wrapped in furs, with teams of sled dogs pulling them to safety. As the sun continued to sink in the west, the "mountains" showed shades of red and pink in the ending day until, at last, it was just darkness across the ice and tundra, with me, the lone observer, continuing east in my twinkling ship.
I hastily scribbled this passage down on hotel note paper one evening after we had flown to Tampa, Florida to embark on a cruise. It's not "my sky" today, but it was lovely on the day it was.
Thanks for stopping by today.