I weave a world where fabric takes flight, With nimble dance and stitches so tight, What am I, crafting beauty with might?

I’m a puddle that peaked in medieval times, I go around houses like property lines. I don’t wave hello, I just sit and float What am I?

Add honey before: I'm green and sweet. Add claw after: I hang above canid feet. When I am on the grass, Rain will not come to pass, On the morn of the day that we meet.

I arrive as promise, not as form, A brief display by light made warm. I trade in color for a task unseen, A quiet pact with wings of sheen. I’m praised, I pass, yet leave behind The means to repeat my kind.

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