Answer:
Searing 'cross the pitchยญ-black skies, I scream in celebration, Yet moments later, my outburst through, I am naught but imagination.
You eat something you neither plant nor plow. It is the son of water, but if water touches it, it dies.
They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they?
This is rectangular, hollow and has a lid, and where youโll find it you might wonder, it is just six feet under. What is it?
What can you fold but not crease?
hey are producers of pies and burgers and are great for tipping.