A concoction constructed by earth and a shower. Found in puddles and when you over water your flowers. Some seek it for thrills, using motors and tires. Others use it to bathe at the spa, if desired.

In a bed of stones, I pave the way, Tiny soldiers in a gray array. Crushed beneath wheels, I won't complain, Underfoot, I bear the strain.

A way to send messages for those in the pen and the sound of a song from a feathered friend

found in the sea but used as a greeting

I flutter in silence, yet rule with might, wings painted in crimson sunset, or robes edged in light. In gardens I dance, in courts I preside, a creature, a crown, two worlds I divide.