The fight for freedom. That spin much around the sun. The time for changing.

I sound like I'm the place for grifters and cheats. A natural chamber found on no street? Do not get Vexed and do not dismay.. Behind two sockets your brain puzzles away!

I’m taken whole or crushed for taste, I keep loose metal held in place. I fall from trees, a simple bite, A quiet food in autumn light. I’m what bursts forth when urges race, A wayward shot with questionable grace.

Hiding amongst the many who form as one. Beneath the filter-fed canopy, I shy from the sun. Flow like a ribbon, though I ambush to feed. Lie me down in reverse, I’m spelled just likely.

I’m not a cat, nor a fox, nor a tree, Yet I fuss where the snippers roam free. I march in orange, I mutter, I warn, Of the greedy hands that leave forests forlorn. I speak for the silent, the leafy, the small, Though shorter than stout, I outshout them all. Who am I, this grumpy, mustachioed chap, That guards the green woods, then vanishes-zap?