I hug tiny roots in a gentle embrace, I feed every seed in its snug little place.

I wear a rough brown coat, contain water that’s sweet and float, grow high on a palm in the sun, and people use my milk and flesh when the work is done. What am I?

I glide in white with quiet grace, yet hiss if you invade my space.

I look like snow, but my colors are wrong; I fall from the air after fire burns strong. I darken the sky, and can choke the air, Waiting for the wind to carry me elsewhere.

what is yellow and starts with b but is not bread and is not with a at end but has a at the end