Many think me lifeless when under ground, but I do much and don't yet make a sound. You see me altered and new. I have such limited time with you. I take little, and leave a massive feast. Not for you, but for many local beast!

I lie beneath the ground, where I bloat and wait. With many eyes, yet I cannot see.My story is one of feast and famine. The colour of gold, yet in hard times,I'm more precious than treasure. What am I?

I'm known for eating honey, though I'm not picky at all. I'll even raid your trash barrels if they smell good at all. Some say I'm scary, some say I'm cute, some train me to do tricks; But I just want your basket when you go on pick-a-nicks

You'll find me in an emerald field or in a farrier's bag. I'm in the paws of sweet bunnies and on the hooves of Ma's old nag. A coin heads up might summon me; black cats might scare away. Cross your fingers and your toes and maybe I might stay.

I could be in outer space, or your living room carpet could be my place. I'm known for being filled with dust, in my fatality you can trust.