I dance on the wind, light as a dream, a gift from the sky or a bird’s soft gleam. I float and I drift, then rest on the ground, a silent traveler, without making a sound.

I stand in legions, yet alone I grow, My children fall but never truly go. I've witnessed empires, outlived king and squire. I die standing up, yet feed the floor. What am I?

A bird we all know, whose name means winged finger. This has been dead for a very long time, and it starts with a letter not needed. It’s on display all over the world; you just have to go see the exhibit.

In this place no one can hear you scream and also devoid of anything we enjoy here on Earth

A long dancing tail, No feet on the ground, I soar through the air, When things blow down. But alone I just sit, Which isn’t much fun, For liftoff what’s needed, Is others to run.