Born on high, I drop down low, With a scaly hat on top I show. Small now, but in time I will, Become a giant on the hill.

It cleans up the mess that falls in the fall, The coat of a tree, it will gather them all.

Was thrown to your door on the round, ancient gossip before tech came around .

A keeper of songs and tales, spinning round as time prevails. Whispered secrets on vinyl grooves, a dance of memory it oft behooves.

I bloom overhead when the rain starts to fall, then close up again when you don’t need me at all.