I brew without flame, a cauldron of foam, where bubbles rise high then vanish like foam. When done, I release what I once held tight, where do you soak day or night?

First is a liquid with a single double element; second happens, and what matters is you get back up. Together, I am a beautiful liquid flow, often simple, but when from great heights, breathtaking is what comes to me.

Oh my stars! A tart little surprise hanging low, bringing a pucker that rivals granny's sour face when she sips her morning tea. Often found amidst a sea of brilliant fall colors, a small taste of puckish delight.

A shortened word for a pesky insect, resistant to nuclear abuse, If you happen to partake, a joint smoked past its use

Cogito, ergo... If this is true, Then all you can know, Is that there is you...