A growing form of vegetation, a space for manufactured pies; the act of nurturing a seed, a clever, undercover spy.

I cover distance in miles and creeping in silence. I blur your sight and cloak the ground. I am born of breath when cold and still. I vanish fast and leave no trace - what am I?

Bones grow strong with it, Hidden in the milk and stone, Nature's firm embrace.

I guide the seasons every year, A pattern that is very clear, I am present music, poetry and art, And even in the echo of a heart

I am a god, a planet, and I measure heat. What am I?