As I gaze out my view I see you fly,
Swaying gracefully in the still, blue, cloudy sky.
Above and through, dipping, gliding, swings.
As if you were a flying carpet made of wings.
You are joined by others flying high,
Each of you missing, as you own the sky,
An inconvenience you chortle and shout out loud,
"We own the sky, we own you, we own the cloud."
At last you land on one tall straight tree,
To survey the heavens and all that be.
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