From regal crowns, I proudly sprout, In forest halls, where creatures rout. A branching peak on nature's throne, Majestic horns of bone alone.

In vaults of blackness dost thou find me, where Prometheus dared to steal. I dance with shadows, a flick'ring sprite, consuming all with warmth and zeal.

Invisible dancer that fills every space, whispers through leaves, lifts kites in grace. Soft as a sigh, yet can roar with might, always present, day and night.

A sea of red, when all is dead, From broken ground I rise. A cure for pain, a sweet sedative strain, Or cloud your mind and blur your eyes.

I’m something you ask for before you enter, A polite little something so no one’s offended. You wait for a yes before carrying on.. But I’m orange, I’m sweet, and I grow on a farm. What am I?