I’m winter’s dodgeball, cold, round, and launched with intent.

Thirsty or angry? Polar? Perhaps. Vacuous power, Will whirl, then collapse. The eye of the devil, The hole of the worm, The drain-dancing Sucker who twists, twirls and turns

I wear a helmet, rugged and brown, From towering palms I tumble down. Crack my shell, hear water sing, A hidden lake in a wooden ring. White snow hides beneath my coat, Island treasure, sailor’s note.

Upon a head, a branching crown, Shed yearly, then regrown, What bony structure's widely known?

I hope we don’t bug you, we just want to get by. With six legs that scurry, or wings to help fly. I’ve seen how you treat others of my own kind, by slipping the letter P, three spots after our eye.