A limb, a nose, a finger, a hose. A home in the attic for off-season clothes. A pillar from which a canopy grows. A boot not for walking, but holding cargo.

I follow all, air, sea and sky, When darkness falls I say goodbye, Lighter than air but larger than life, I weigh nothing at all, but obscure the light

I am used to hydrate you, but I am not used to be commonly consumed. You can find me in a tropical coast.

I am a whisper of hope, the glimpse through a mirage, a verdant deception born of thirst. Though born of illusion's dance, my reality surpasses all that's dreamed, a life-giving respite, where the parched soul is redeemed.

I can fly but have no wings. I cry but have no eyes. What am I?