On silver wings outstretched they fly -

And some will surely pass you by.

    They seek not food, shelter nor sleep

    But have appointments they must keep.


On wildest wind, on sweetest breeze

They’ll streak across the fields and trees.

    Who sees them travel?  No, not I

    And yet, somewhere, high in the sky . . .


So many travel to and fro  -

Incessant torrents ebb and flow -

    And, concealed from any human eye,

    They’ll whirl and dance across the sky.


Transported upon wings most strong

Their journeys can be short or long.

    They can travel to the moon through space,

    Then vanish, leaving little trace.


They’ll speed along to you and me

Through cyberspace.  So now you see

    They’re not long-distance flying birds

    But what we humans most love  . . . .words.  

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By Josie Whitehead



By Josie Whitehead