I am a window that never opens, I drink the sun but keep out the rain. I live in your roof, not your walls, Bringing day where none should remain.

I’m cut but never eaten Dealt but never smelt I have four suits that never wear And a pair that’s just plain silly

I’m not a flame, but I waver. Not a signal, but I blink. I exist only by refusing to stay still. What am I?

My head is full of fingers, that you drag across the ground. They pull the dead from the bed you tread, with a scraping, swooshing sound. If I lie dormant, belly up, with my fingers to the sky, Your lesson is learned, foot to head, I return, it’s ‘name of the season’ time.

I'm holey and hole-some. A sugar ring that fills the coffee's need, a fried savior when mornings bleed.