i'm skinny, hollow, very thin i grow, you cut me back again bundle me up for winter's wind, i'll be your friend when the cows come in.

A woven cradle for fruit's delight, it holds your goods from day to night. With handles strong, it bears the weight, in markets bustling, it holds your fate.

I fall from clouds in violent streaks, yet live in walls where silence speaks. Wild, I burn; controlled, I serve, the same force, bound and observed.

Three: Pitch to a pit, downtrodden to tire Three more: Simply said, modest kin to acquire Intended recipient, lives under fire

I raise my owner's standards, whatever they may be. When people face me they oft salute, but it's never quite for me.