Answer:
Though easy to spot, when allowed to plume, It is hard to see, when held in a room.
This thing runs but cannot walk, sometimes sings but never talks. Lacks arms, has hands; lacks a head but has a face.
A mile from end to end, yet as close to as a friend. A precious commodity, freely given. Seen on the dead and on the living. Found on the rich, poor, short and tall, but shared among children most of all.
Fatherless and motherless. Born without sin, roared when it came into the world. And never spoke again.
Glittering points that downward thrust. Sparkling spears that never rust.
I can only be played on a windy day