I rest in shadows, quiet and flat, Wake up to swing or flutter at that. In stadiums bright, I help dreams soar, In caves at night, I search for more. I’m held in hands or spread in flight, One brings the game, one rules the night. What am I, fitting both paths I’m at?

A simple delight, a pleasant clink Made from wood or bone or metal, linked Motion plays a soothing tune The wind given another voice to croon What am I?

I be a silver doubloon in the sky, Guiding ships, though I have no eye. What be I, ye scurvy dog, tell me or die?

A chemical compound that generates the smell in skunk musk or the disagreeable scent added to natural gas. This has impressively odorous lousiness.

Standing tall in fields of green, whispers secrets to the breeze, clothes winter in needle's sheen, and scents the air with memories of holidays.