I splash and play where cold seas lie, or close a letter with a waxen tie. I certify or fasten with grace, and sometimes show my flippered face.

I am the silent tether of stars, a whisper that bends the light. I am a fall without motion, a pull with no chain. I hold the oceans to the shore and the dust to the floor. I am the invisible root of every rise and every fall.

I make planets and their inhabitants, but I do not make them perish. People often fill me.

I can be both sweet and sour, I make certain people cower. I am quite famous in stories and tales. My seed, when potent, can turn people pale.

Beneath the bovine's bounty, a golden glow gleams, soft as the sun's whisper, smooth as a silken stream. It dances on dawn's bread and toasts the morning's dreams.