One meaning grips when danger’s near, in hands that grow tense with sudden fear. Another rests beneath a hen, where tiny lives will hatch again.

I am a tough cut of meat from the lower breast, But give me some time, and I’ll beat all the rest. I love a good rub of salt and of spice, And a low, smoky bath makes me taste extra nice. You must cook me for hours don't rush or be quick, Or I'll turn out as tough as a hickory stick. But stay patient and slow, let the smoke do its part, And I’ll melt in your mouth like a work of BBQ art.

Has stalls, but no horses to feed Buyers browse to find what they need One little piggy went here Wall Street calls it a bull or a bear

Inside a desert so large, are those plants and surface water that I see? And it's not a mirage? Here I thought my eyes are playing tricks on me!

I hang in doorways, yet I never knock. I'm kissed for, not with; a living paradox. Green when the world goes bare, I cling to height, A parasite that somehow feels like light. What am I?