In clusters I gather, a midnight hue, Sweet and tart, a summer's brew. On pancakes I rest, a morning's delight, In pies, I nest, a baker's flight.

Neatly stacked with care and flair, a tower of warmth in the open air. Awaiting flames with patient grace, a cozy hearth's embrace.

And here am-I showing where the wind goes!

Upwards, forwards, Up you schlep, For things like this, are shaped as steps

Some have seen me, motes in air, I linger just beyond your stare. I gather there upon your shelves, and may disturb your sense of smell. Some have found me quite prosaic, Others moved and often say it.