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.

Not a slice of cake, the task at hand. When the world is so loud, I tend to be quiet. I let go of things or make deals to relinquish suffering. It’s quite nice here and white birds occasionally accompany me.