Prime real estate for banjo twanging, grandma's favorite place for hanging. The event horizon of a domicile, take a seat and stay awhile.

No legs have I to dance, No lungs have I to breathe. No life have I to live or die, And yet I do all three. What am I?

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 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.

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