Leaves With Wings (In Praise of Poetry)

A poem is a flying thing.
A book's a flock of leaves with wings.
For transportation, nothing's faster.
Ask Beowulf or Zoroaster.
In terms of range, the beat and rhyme
Know all dimensions, space and time.
For jobs in bulk, it's hard to beat
The poet's billion-title fleet.
For every language that you learn
New routes to travel you will earn,
And if you want to reach the stars,
Only writers roam past Mars.