I make sirens wail a different tune, A cosmic shift that colors stars maroon. Astronomers love me, so do the docs, Guess my name, think waves, not clocks.

what repeats when first said loudly, but gets softer as it goes on?

In verdant vales where vines entwine, Fleet feet chase a sphere divine. No hands may touch, yet hearts it sways, What sport sparks such spirited play?

I lie flat when I am standing. The living must carry me everywhere, but easily I slip through their fingers. I am a gift from the gods, but I am the doom of many young children.

I’m past Neptune, cold and wide, Where icy wanderers like to hide. Home to Pluto, a distant shelf, Name me right, I’m the belt myself