I labor in tandem, but one at a time. Immobile I linger, but turn on a dime. I'll show you the way, you'll leave me behind. Inside and out, my life intertwines.

Crispy, golden shell, Filled with cabbage, pork, and spice, A delightful bite.

I snap when I am stepped on. I was once part of a tree. I'm not a branch. What am I?

What is orange, and sounds similar to parrot?

Loose and not baled, my shape is quite grand, a mountain of food on a green plot of land. Left out in the pastures, I stand through the storm. Then pitched to the livestock to keep them fed and warm.