Clouds That Still Fly

Not every flight ends when the wheels touch the runway. Some leave behind small, stubborn pockets of sky that refuse to let go of what happened inside them at 37,000 feet: a whispered proposal, a child’s first glimpse of the planet’s curve, a final goodbye that outran the seatbelt sign. Once a week we slip into one of these lingering clouds and spend ten quiet minutes with the moment it decided to keep forever. Part aviation, part lullaby, all altitude.