Mere tiny droplets, falling from the sky. But given enough time, we can weather down mountains, oh so high.

I navigate by questions asked, To walls that answer, never masked. My royalty comes from mythic tale, Borrowed shapes in night prevail. When panic sought a tiny cause, I took the blame without a pause.

An old book about citrus would contain much of me.

Bumblebees right by the sea? You've got that right! I'm a tree!

I am born from labor that never sleeps, Spun without hands, yet finely keeps. Once soft as air, yet strong in weave, I dress the rich and catch deceived. Named for smoothness, prized for sheen, What am I that slips between?