Answer:
White bird, featherless, flying out of paradise. Flying over sea and land. Dying in my hand.
You eat something you neither plant nor plow. It is the son of water, but if water touches it, it dies.
The sharp slim blade, that cuts the wind. What is it?
I'm white, I'm round, but not always around. Sometimes you see me, sometimes you don't.
I bind it and it walks. I loose it and it stops.
I run through hills. I veer around mountains. I leap over rivers. And crawl through the forests. Step out your door to find me.