I'm not a star, yet I shine bright, with borrowed beams of solar light. I grow an icy tail when I draw near, the Sun’s warm breath I almost fear. I visit from the outer dark, a fleeting guest, a glowing spark.

I’m not a house, yet creatures stay, buzzing, hopping through the day. Im a green blanket with flowers spread, Where clouds drift soft above my head.

I move, but barely, slow and wide, with secrets 'neath my muddy tide. The cypress leans to touch my face, where gators glide in silent grace. Neither river, lake, nor sea, what Southern soul could I then be?

Since ancient times I’ve been stripped and ground, in winter’s breath, I can be found. A twist of warmth with every taste, In baked swirls, I leave no waste. I’m often paired with sugar’s kiss, but guess my name, if you insist.

I am the hymn of what once was whole, a silent scribe of a vanished soul. I wear the grey of memory’s veil, In death, I speak what life won’t tell. I mark the end, yet still a prize, what name am I, from which phoenix rise?