I have an eye but cannot see. I destroy but I have no hands. I move but I have no feet. Before I arrive, you feel calm.

In this far away place we seek the cosmos for its rightful place and wonder if we are mere spec without a trace

I am born where melting snow runs free, Carved by stone long before me. I have no legs, yet wear a shore, I cut the land and shape its floor. By banks I am held, by bends I steer, I carry silt from far to near. I lose my name when sea tides quiver. What am I?

I am an American poet of quite some renown. Surprisingly I am also a bridge leading to a brotherly town. My magnum opus should be read on an emerald lawn, though if you don’t like free verse you will find it a yawn. My first I share with the man who created the world’s most famous mouse, my second with chocolate you might sample in your own house.

You might do this when you get here, if you didn’t walk or skate An open place of memories dear, where children congregate