At first I’m yellow, in the grass Next I’m dainty white With a huff and a puff I’m blown away Up and out of sight

I am not king, though close in line, In palace halls I’m dressed to shine. Yet in old tales, one kiss may wait, to free me from a pond-bound fate.

I lay no eggs, yet a chick will arise, From the spicy ash where the parent dies. I consume my own body to conquer the grave, Reborn in the flame from the life that I gave. What am I?

Where rows stand tall, in neat, green array, sweet treasures grow, come what may.

I'm how mother nature let's off steam, in large and violent displays. Best keep a safe distance, or your skin will be glazed, not worth that selfie on your home page.