A Quechee Encounter.

What’s that in the air, in the distance?

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Is it a balloon?

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Dang.

Yes, it is.

The light is fading.

I pull off the highway to watch.

 

 

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It’s getting near dark.

They are coming down fast.

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I hope they’re OK, and can find a place to land.

They see me watching them, and wave…

I wave back.

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The balloon comes low enough that I fear for their safety.

 

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But they fire up the burners, and start to rise up.

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Away they go, quietly.

They’ll clear the ridge they’re approaching.

I hope there’s a good big field in their line of flight.

And that they’ll find it before dark.

I get back in my truck.

And move along.

 

 

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