Answer:
At the sound of me, one may dream or stamp their feet, At the sound of me, one may laugh or sometimes weep.
I am never quite what I appear to be. Straight-forward I seem, but it's only skin deep. For mystery most often lies beneath my simple speech. Sharpen your wits, open your eyes, look beyond my exteriors, read me backwards, forwards, upside down. Think and answer the question...
What has a big mouth, yet never speaks?
Reaching stiffly for the sky, I bare my fingers when its cold. In warmth I wear an emerald glove and in between I dress in gold.
What can be swallowed, But can also swallow you?
The warmer I am the fresher I am.