You can’t send it anywhere
Don’t try searching for where it ends
Like hair, it thins as you move up
It’s a window, but imperfect
Makes stars look dull and small
A gaseous medium masking messages
Bent to purposes all its own
Really slow to create
It demands gazillions of workers
Who’ve given their whole lives yet
It’s still easy to degrade
You blast it with explosions
It won’t complain too much
Asteroids rip and maul it
Though somewhat less than belching cows
Still it’s transparent to ideas
Accepts radio waves and most frequencies
Gives great views
Remains a fine place for weighing feathers
Doesn’t think, but smarter than many
The tears it sheds become rivers and oceans
Plus it’s really good for flying
All told a hundred kilometers tall
Light as air though getting lighter
Our windy window into the endless
Though some parts can’t wait to rise away
Racing for the sun
A window of air requires great care
Think of that with every breath