I have many layers, many as a Russian doll I can make you cry, I'm round as a ball I love the spring, I can go around your fingers and be really crispy, If powdery, I season If your meat tastes well, I am the reason

When Bacchus calls, the sun doth wane, a jovial dance, thy spirits gain. 'Tis time when mirth and ale dost flower, marking the end of toil's dour hour.

Defiance works against me, In wind I'm ochre waves, When autumn calls, I too must fall, For nothing gold can stay

I’m a foot that never feels the floor, I clip and clop from door to door. My shoe is mine since I was born, on horse or cow, I’m proudly worn.

In my flight I circle back, a wooden acrobat. Throw me away, yet I return, a lesson in life's twist and turn.