A warm, humid morning here in Nashville. These photos were taken from the Harpeth River Greenway. I think jet trails can be as beautiful as clouds. And as evocative. They speak of journeys and leavings and returns. And then they fade to common day, until the evening when they return bringing us home or taking us to places we have never been. Thoreau would have hated jets, but I believe he would have stood in wonder, baffled by mystery of their passing.
Chinese
French
German
Italian
Japanese
Korean
Russian
Spanish
1 comment:
When I see the trails I wonder where they are going. They fly high around me so you see the trail and hear the sound way behind.
Post a Comment