Literature
drenched runways
drenched runways
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I'm looking out over the wet tarmac of the private airport; the runways are empty of planes. The windsock, soaked with rain, hangs limply straight down, even though some wind yet blows. It will tell no one how to correct their steering during take-offs and landings. Visibility is near zero. I cancel my flight plans for today and for who knows how many other days. The sky may never be quite so clear again as it once was. Someday, probably, I will fly again, but not yet, not yet.
Dark clouds will always remind me.
Of sunny days.
Lancelot Price 2015 March 23