Stress my ending and I will leave without a care. Stress my beginning and nothing will grow.

The more you take, the more you leave behind. Louder in snow, quieter on stone. And when you hesitate, I multiply. What am I?

I hang where winter whispers low, A stolen kiss is what you owe. Not rooted deep in earth below, I cling to limbs where cold winds blow. Meet beneath me, yes or no? Speak my name, what am I? Go.

First, think of the color of the clouds. Next, think of the color of snow. Now, think of the color of a bright, full moon. Now, answer quickly: What do cows drink?

I wax and wane but never cry, I light the night, hang in the sky. I pull the tides, I watch you swoon, Silent companion, friend to the dune. What am I?