A misleading name for fans of this food, I sound like one kernel, though that is not true. Instead I fall from an oak tree, and squirrels often gather me.

A waterfowl approached a beverage vendor, And enquired of the man running the stand, Good day. Do you have any grapes? The vendor replied that no, he merely stocks lemonade, Further he explained that it was fresh and homemade, When offered a glass, the duck said he would pass. How did the duck leave, only to return the next day?

I am the daily death of fire, A bright surrender in the west. I stain the sky with gold and blood, Then lay the tired world to rest. Lovers pause to watch me fall, Shadows stretch to see me go. I end the day without a word, Yet leave the heavens burning low. What am I?

I am vast without edges and deep without bounds, Where tides pull and push with a rhythm unshouted. I hold islands like secrets and ships in my embrace, With waves that can sing and a roar that can break. I taste of the salt and the weight of the world, A mirror of storms and a blanket of calm. Fish weave through my veins and coral my heart, Yet I cannot be held, only Passed through by boat. What am I, so wild yet so still in its grace, The endless, blue heart that the earth calls its home?

I stretch without edges and hold without hands, A canvas of endless, where light softly lands. I wear crowns of white when the morning is new, And drape the world in gold before sleep claims the blue. I cradle the sun and I guide the moon’s path, Yet I cannot be touched, nor held in a grasp. Birds carve their stories across my wide face, While clouds drift like ships in a silent, vast space. I am home to the wind and the whispering rain, A quiet, deep presence that shapes every scene. What am I, so near yet above all we see, The boundless, warm blanket that wraps the whole earth?