If my first was a, I'd be frozen sap, But spelled as I am, I'm the heart of the hearth.

Circuitous creation, delicate yet defiant, spun in solitude by a silent sentinel. Aerial architecture, capturing the curious, hidden in corners, unseen yet omnipresent.

An igloo, or maybe a yeti. Either way, you’ll find it’s chilly.

Breakthrough! Climbing, I gasp to the sky. Once more, unto the breach, shall I fly. Then hurtling headlong, And crashing I dive, By miraculous fluke, I somehow survive.

I live where waves and whispers meet, With hinged-up doors instead of feet. I shut my mouth when danger’s near, Yet sometimes hold a treasure dear.