Answer:
What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees. Up, up it goes, and yet never grows?
It's got twists and turns, but has no curves. Twist it to fix it, turn it to ruin it. What is it?
Each morning I appear to lie at your feet, all day I follow no matter how fast you run. Yet I nearly perish in the midday sun.
Upon me you can tread, though softly under cover. And I will take you places, that you have yet to discover. I'm high, and I'm low, though flat in the middle. And though a joy to the children, adults think of me little.
What is the freedom of birds and the pen of old men?
If lightning strikes an orchestra who is the one most likely to get hit?