I might be small Not even a seed tall But my mighty jaw Leaves the strongest in awe

I might be a man I might be a house I might be a hat I might be a bed The only thing for certain is that I come from the ground

I reach for the sky But I'm anchored to the ground When the north wind blows, I tend to cry When my brethren fall, do they make a sound? What am I?

I am a mix of two things. Created by wealth but bad for your health. I block something bright and taint the night. What am I?

I carry tusks of ivory but never hunt for meat, I shake the very ground beneath your feet. I remember every face and the paths I used to roam