I start as a loop, a slip, and a slide, To the eye of a feather, I'm firmly allied. Named for a Major, I hold through the fight, Ensuring the lure stays cinched and tight.

Some claim these aren’t real. It took Alfred Hitchcock to make them scary. Spelled differently, they turn, turn, turn

I’m open to sky, yet shelter I bring, A stage, a shade, a place to sing. Not a tent, not a hall, though I host them too, what structure am I, enjoyed by you?

I have eyes but I cannot see. I contain a scream but I have no mouth. I am the staple of a cold treat. What am I that beats the summertime heat.

In the forest of threads, I do rest, A shield 'gainst the chill at your chest. Though sleeveless I be, I'm snug company, For woodland walks, I'm surely best.