I kiss the skin but leave no mark, unless your hand moves fast or sharp. With edge so fine I clear the way, and leave things smooth by end of day.

I sit close with many of my siblings Plucked when ripe from hanging gatherings Pressed and left to slowly age Then poured into your glass to raise

I am many things with many tasks, I swim with sharks and grade the flasks. I summit mountains, I model towns, I measure disasters that bring both down. I rise and fall in musical call, And sometimes I ponder the weight of it all.

I carry kings but wear no crown, Through dust and battle I race through town. Two wheels spin, the horses fly, I thunder fast, yet cannot sigh.

A soup, spell, On hearth or in oven, A vessel for warming, With family and coven.