Of a rose. In a side. Plant protector. Pain injector

I am the hush between two songs, where daylight fades and dusk belongs. I draw a curtain, dark and deep, and lull the waking world toward sleep.

From dripping water I am made, then hang like winter’s crystal blade.

This could be a tool, a weapon, or a place that corvids get drunk

I trap a rainbow deep in stone, October calls me as its own. Born of earth yet lit like flame, no two behold me quite the same.