I am a fruit as sweet as tango, harvested in June; July or August well I can go, outside of that my doom. When unripe I can be quite piney, but on point I can be sublimely, my hairy pit not gross enough to make a man go EEW.

I am known for being outdoors and in the sky, but I do not have wings to help me fly.. You might control me.

I am filled with inhabitants, though man is but a visitor. tourists killing me is common, but many find it sinister. In life my color is bright, but in death I am white

Here’s a tricky one with flow - Some of me are planted, while others of me glow. One of me illuminates a room, the other of me grow; One may break or shatter, the other is organic matter But either way, please try not to step on me with your toe.

I can swim in summer’s golden breeze, but I cannot live in winter’s freeze. People often spot me in June, where waters shimmer and rushes loom. .