Answer:
The root tops the trunk on this backward thing, that grows in the winter and dies in the spring.
I am the outstretched fingers that seize and hold the wind. Wisdom flows from me in other hands. Upon me are sweet dreams dreamt, my merest touch brings laughter.
What is up thatโs also down? Whatโs a smile and a frown?
Golden treasure I contain, Guarded by hundreds and thousands. Stored in a labyrinth where no man walks, Yet men come often to seize my gold. By smoke I am overcome and robbed, then left to build my treasure anew
When they are caught, they are thrown away. When they escape, you itch all day.
I flow from the Homerโs mouth when he sees doughnuts.