I dance with rage across the land, with swirling skirts of dust and sand. I have no feet, yet leave a trail, no voice, yet I roar. I vanish fast, but not before I knock on every house and door.

I’m neither a pit nor a hill, but I lie where the earth’s curves chill. Since ancient times, I’ve been carved by flow, Yet I’m not a path you walk to and fro. I gather the mist, the shadows, the dew, between two giants, I stay out of view.

I'm bright and flush, and fleshy. Kinda rosy, but not a flower. I'm delicate, and cut up messy. A little sweet, a little sour. I turn fruit salad, into a salsa.

I crackle and glow as the night drifts by, warming your hands as sparks dance high. You tell smoky tales with my flickering light, what am I, burning cozy and bright?

I mimic your secrets but never tell lies, A jester with feathers and keen, watchful eyes