u can’t outdo my rate of travel. A shadow of substance, in packets I unravel. No breath to my pulse, I leave no trail. Floating yet, no ship I sail. I pierce the glass but shatter at a wall. When you see it’s me you see though I have no shape at all.

I crown the champion, the poet, the king, Yet I am a simple, green, woven thing. A collection of verses, a chain with no key, Hung over the doorway or wrapped round a tree. What am I?

Head dangled down to rest for my feast. In lore, I’m seen as a shift for a beast. I whisper a sound you cannot hear, with skin that gives flight and might cause some fear. Hunting my prey from the lunar glow, mapping my way with an echo. What am I?

Eight arms that reach through shifting sand, I hold the sea without a hand. I wear no crown, yet change my hue, And vanish in a sudden view. Though soft my form, I squeeze and slide, Where rocky ocean shadows hide.

When clouds grow dark and raindrops fall I rise above you, straight and tall I have no roof, yet keep you dry And open wide beneath the sky