I appear as triangle, but I am not geometric. People associate me with river.

I kiss the wind and touch the sky, I soar high on your command. Up, down, left or right I fly, You guide me with a single strand.

I sound like an animal with hooves, but I come from a sore throat. What am I?

I bring the light, but also tears, I end the dark, though start new fears. I sound like sorrow, yet show the sun What am I, when night and love is gone?

I lengthen shadows, I cure all wounds I grow in gardens, I wear down tombs I’m one of four guests at Scarborough Fair As persistent as death, as passive as air