I start small, but grow with each pace, A chain reaction, a wilder space, One event sparks, a sequence unfolds, Gaining speed and size, stories told, I could also be cold to the touch, white as can be, A winter's projectile, or a growing spree.

I live in the nighttime on dark velvet skies. I blink and twinkle like millions of eyes.

In a swarm, a blight, The fiddlers of night. Insects of plant bane, Farmers, when losses compound, point fingers and blame.

I stand tall, yet hollow inside, A fortress green, where secrets hide. Though wood I seem, a grass I claim, What am I, whispered in nature's name?

I run but never walk, I have a bed but never sleep. I can roar or whisper, And always find my way to the sea.