For preventing death from high falls, or jumping out of planes like goofballs.

I can be traded for a minor gain, Or sacrificed to clear the path. I step straight forward, striking sideways, Quietly bearing the battle's wrath. I am the smallest on the board, Yet reach the end and I become a queen.

In my kitchen, tiny treasure, in a sack or jar, I measure. Golden fields do I sustain, nature's bounty, sweet refrain.

I start as a square, but don’t stay that way, a few careful folds can make a bird for display.

Keep me close as you cook your roast or else you may regret it, sliding your hand deep in me feels almost prophetic.