My touch brings forth the automnal decay. In my breath I carry the winter brisk. If you find me do not cry and whine. It's not my place to decide when spring or summer come for you. You can only accept what lays beyound. Who am I?

You fall into me when the door is locked, I take it all the heat, the shock. Sheets get tangled, breath runs fast, I hold the moment till it’s past. I’m where desire slows its tread, Soft below, but firm instead.

My first five: after the sun has set My last four: a horse capable of bearing offspring Together: what has you waking up in a cold sweat

I’m information, I’m sport, I’m dance. I’m happy, I’m sad, I’m ham. What am I?

Metal-coated or gem-embedded, I can be removed with ease, but in a flash, I can sparkle for all to see. Preparing edibles on a lined surface, heated for marks of perfection, salt and pepper, an outside chef’s delight. Leading the way for your transport’s face, bringing air into essential places, ensuring smooth running on the go.