I am born when day exhales, Before the stars ignite their tales. Not quite dark, nor fully bright, I blur the line of day and night.

I trade a quiet cocoon for painted wings, fluttering like a moving flower, delicate but alive. My beauty is brief, yet unforgettable.

Flimsy thorns left unsheathed They come out strong but fall flat in the end Too weak to be imposing and too sparse to be a beard Often accompanied by purrs and woofs

Many legends give me different appearances but I am also real. In the past I have a crown and scales of a different color than I do now. In real life, watch me run. Otherwise avert your eyes and hold your breath.

My first part is black and comes from the earth, but cannot be put into a Christmas Stocking - My second part can