Overhead, I see three, crisp, parallel contrails flowing south. Below me, a green river runs north. Somewhere in between, an osprey circles, perhaps waiting to plunge and pluck a snake from the water.<\/p>\n
I consider the contrails. Big jetliners are carrying passengers somewhere. I’d rather ride with the osprey or the river. They would take me where I need to go in my mind or Oregon.<\/p>\n
Can a human being leave a contrail that others see? Can a writer or artist? That sounds like a bad thing. Nothing concrete. Just an ethereal appearance and then dissolution.<\/p>\n
I really don’t even know the science of them and I am not going to look it up. I think it’s something about evaporation.<\/p>\n
More contrails appear. One pierces a cirrus cloud. White through white to create an unnamed color of white.<\/p>\n
I consider white. I own one article of white apparel\u2014a Western shirt. There is no other white in my life, except faces around me.<\/p>\n
All the contrails trace south. I am in a flight path.<\/p>\n
Do you know that hummingbirds fly through contrails on their migration flights?<\/p>\n
Is there a rock song with the word contrails<\/i> in it?<\/p>\n
I have known exactly one person in my life who acted as a sort of contrail. I think I even knew it at the time. Okay, now I am thinking there were two.<\/p>\n
(If you found this post enjoyable, thought provoking or enlightening, please consider supporting a writer at work by making a financial contribution to this blog or by purchasing a NSP book.) <\/i><\/p>\n\n Overhead, I see three, crisp, parallel contrails flowing south. Below me, a green river runs north. Somewhere in between, an osprey circles, perhaps waiting to plunge and pluck a snake from the water. I consider the contrails. Big jetliners are carrying passengers somewhere. I’d rather ride with the osprey or the river. They would take […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4422,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[908,6,909],"class_list":["post-4421","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-meditations","tag-contrails","tag-matt-love","tag-sky","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4421","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4421"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4421\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4424,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4421\/revisions\/4424"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4422"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4421"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4421"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4421"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}