I jingle and clang, but I’m not a bell for your wrist. I wake the herd, yet I never insist. I sit on a neck, I’m loud in the field Guess who I am, my sound never yields?

Beaches have me, and my solid form travels with packages. I emerge when dirty dishes are done. What am I?

I bring yesterday’s dinner back to life, but if you put metal in me, we’ll both regret it.

I lie on the floor, cozy and snug, Soft woven threads in a warm little hug. Spread out below where footsteps all tread, Adding some comfort wherever you head.

Invisible conqueror of forgotten corners and shelves, settled dreams of the past, born from the dance of time and neglect, stirs with the slightest breath.