Thousand upon thousands of grains am I, beneath the sun and open sky. I line the shores and deserts wide, where small hands build, and waves decide.

I lay dormant waiting for a prize i don’t deserve. Some keep me as company some dont. I like to whisper to those that understand me. What am I?

No legs have I to dance, No lungs have I to breathe. No life have I to live or die, And yet I do all three. What am I?

My name sounds like a child's toy on a shelf, Joined with a fish's tool for steering itself. I live in a school but I never pass tests, I click and I whistle with air in my chest. What am I?

It's like library but instead of checking out librs, you check out birds.