I move, but barely, slow and wide, with secrets 'neath my muddy tide. The cypress leans to touch my face, where gators glide in silent grace. Neither river, lake, nor sea, what Southern soul could I then be?

Since ancient times I’ve been stripped and ground, in winter’s breath, I can be found. A twist of warmth with every taste, In baked swirls, I leave no waste. I’m often paired with sugar’s kiss, but guess my name, if you insist.

I am the hymn of what once was whole, a silent scribe of a vanished soul. I wear the grey of memory’s veil, In death, I speak what life won’t tell. I mark the end, yet still a prize, what name am I, from which phoenix rise?

Magic or science, you can't know for sure. Indulge in my wonders, and you'll never be bored. Given space and time, there must be more. I'm how the universe made it possible to be played on a board.

I grow on creatures, but not on trees. I help some charge and others flee. For beasts, I’ll help protect. For you, a sound I’ll project.