The feathered friend; as it soars among the heavens waves, does it plan its coarse or does it just drift where it may? Does this creature of freedom and flight have a destination in mind as it caresses the blue blanketed horizon? Does this beast just aimlessly glide into eternity not caring about anything as the wind gives a single breath to help guide as a sail? Neither the wind nor the feathered beast obeys father time as they only adhere to the ticking of the leaves and not that of a clock. Eventually the winged creature acknowledges a sense of time when it kisses the stars one last time before it slumbers and rests up for the coming day of adventurous freedom, and even then there are those who only begin to rise with the moon and are guided by constellations as to sing to the night.