Setting sail across the windswept plains,
Air rushing by, as does the land below,
Wings arching, Slicing through the thin air,
Covering distances unknown.

Searching always for that magnetic compass,
Guiding lines of power encompassing this world.
Soaring over lakes, seas, oceans.
Driven by instinct every spring and fall.

Escaping the winter winds rushing down from the north,
to warmer climes, less frigid temperatures.
Returning yearly to mate, and raise their young,
to continue the cycle, ever moving, ever changing and unchanging.