I’m crooked in posture and humble in size, a shelter that doesn't pretend. When rain forms streams and wind sighs, travelers may call me a friend.

From crashing seas or garden hose, from perfume mist upon your clothes. I scatter drops that drift away, what am I that floats this way?

From rooftops I begin to grow, as falling drops forget to flow. I lengthen slow in winter’s chill, what am I, sharp and still?

ANSWER pie ANSWER tree Redbulls new flavor ANSWER Sakura ANSWER turnover ANSWER chapstick

Grey giants of the land, they wear ivory crowns and parade with grace, trumpeting tales of ancient wisdom while their enormous shadows dance in the savannah sun.