Happy is the bird who flies into the
star lit sky.
From every where the darkness glows,
as far as meets the eye.
So high up in the heavens, far above
He is followed in formation, by those
who hear his sound.
Where does direction come from; who
tells him where to go?
Not comprehending what or why; he only
knows to flow.
No bright ideas to call his own, he's never
made a plan.
But there will be no snow upon the ground
where he will land.
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Comments about this poem (Fly On by Mark Normand )
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