Brown as autumn, soft as a doe, I hide where the woodland breezes blow. A nut may wear me, warm and small, While certain eyes can wear me too, above all. A gentle shade between green and brown, In forests and faces, I can be found.

I have no doors, but I hold a treasure inside. I must be broken before I can be used, and though I have no legs, I can roll across a room.

No bones, no spine, yet I can climb the highest pine. What am I?

Remove my last two for abbreviated golden state Or drop my first for sibling of a street, a lane, a way But really I'm a mouth of dark uncertainty agape

I’ll ignore you all day, then demand your embrace, and somehow your pillow becomes my rightful place.