I rise in spring, I end in fall, I’m fast and small, my prey is all. My disguise is many things, Flowers, leaves, with hidden wings. But if i spread my vestments wide, If you are my groom, you’ve probably died.

What type of room has no doors or windows?

Beyond the day, before the dark, I leave a silent, fading mark. A sacred pause, a spectral hue, Where ancient tales might still ring true. They say in me, the unseen walk, And whispers from the past can talk. What am I?

When you stop to look, you can always see me. But if you try to touch me, you can never feel me. Although you walk towards me, I remain the same distance from you.

A tough armored tank with twin weapons am I, facing neither forwards nor backwards but off to the side I have a stellar cousin who dwells in the night sky, and am a name for one quick to anger to fly, As well as proof of a passionate night gone awry