Dogs famously do it, Humans wear it, For style or through misuse, I become holy.

Mischief and mystery wrapped in my feathers, A harbinger of doom in shadows and weather. My presence speaks in legends and lore, A teller of fate and secrets - nevermore.

I live outside where you never dare to roam. I get stepped on more than you get respect. I stay green while you fade on your couch. You should really come out and meet me.

I often occur to flowers in Spring, I share my name with a magical girl who has wings. A smile might do this on your face. Or on your chocolate, a temperature change my white cast might place.

When Yule comes around people may bake one of me. On that note, I once existed as a lovely tree. However now I most frequently reside in a fiery pit, A sharp weapon is often used to make me split.