I speak when struck, not when I breathe, A hollow heart with stretched-on skin. I keep the march, I call the dance, A thunder born beneath your hands. No mouth I have, yet beats are heard Name me by sound, not voice nor word.

If you talk about the weather, you talk about me. But... Yawn. Can't we talk about something bigger?

In hallways where the holy gather, you might bump into a Father. I could be green in the middle, can you solve this strange riddle?

When leaves turn to nature's confetti, and the sun takes a softer stroll across the sky, this season hums a cooler tune.

If I fall, make a wish and blow- They say I’ll bring good luck, you know. A guardian of the human mind, Filtering what the eye might find.