A celestial shape beneath the waves, I crawl along the sand and caves. With arms, but never meant to hold, My stories of the deep are told. I have no fins, no gills, no eyes,A twinkling creature in disguise. What am I?

I have no hinges, key, or lid, Yet golden treasure inside is hid. I must be broken before I can be used, And if I fall, I am easily bruised.

I share my name and draw my strength from the Sun. I stand tall and turn my face towards my namesake. What am I?

I lift my face to morning’s light, and watch the sun move from left to right. Though earth has bound me where I stand, I brighten fields across the land.

I move with no engine, yet I still can glide, Two hands are my heartbeat, they pull at my side. I whisper through waters where motors feel loud, I’m smallest in harbors, but free from the crowd. I travel in rhythm, not rush or in haste, Where effort and silence are part of the taste.