The Sun Bakes Them
The sun bakes them,
The hand breaks them,
The foot treads them,
The mouth tastes them.
Grapes. Grapes are grown in the sun, can be hand picked and crushed by feet (which is sort of gross) to make wine, which is tasted by your mouth when you drink it.
Give Me Drink and I Die
Feed me and I live, give me drink and I die. What am I?
Fire.
The Most Impressive Boundary
The most impressive boundary’s not a wall.
It’s not a manufactured thing at all.
Moving towards it won’t reduce the gap
and nothing marks its presence on a map.
The horizon.
By Sef Daystrom
At Night They Come
At night they come without being fetched. By day they are lost without being stolen. What are they?
The stars.
I Am, In Truth, A Yellow Fork
I am, in truth, a yellow fork
From tables in the sky
By inadvertent fingers dropped
The awful cutlery.
Of mansions never quite disclosed
And never quite concealed
The apparatus of the dark
To ignorance revealed.
— Emily Dickenson
Lightning.