Thoughts From Atop the Clouds
I love flying above the clouds. The perspective of “sky” changes up here. Where, exactly, does the sky begin?
The clouds are so puffy. Like rolling hills of cotton balls.
When there is a lake of openness in the hidden skylit landscape, single puffs of a fluff stand seemingly still.
Almost as if waiting for the huge metal beast to continue on before it can resume it’s play.