Twice a year the axis leans, to mark extremes in solar means. When land dips deepest into night, or basks the longest in the light. Since ancient times we do behold, ancestors stone and bronze have told.

I hold a breath that never leaves, and rain that falls but never flees. A captured season, a silent cage, where life is written on a glass page. I am a kingdom without a key, where the earth looks out, but cannot be free. What am I?

Furry tail flicks high, Nut hidden, a winter hoard, Quick climb, then it's gone.

I am not a river, but I carry the same, though smaller in size, I still have my fame. What am I?

Beneath the ground I drink the rain, In a rabbit’s paw, I bring him fame.