Answer:
It is an arctic double breasted formal wear.
At first I am a yellow weed in the lawn, and then the wind blows, and my white feathers are gone. What am I?
With pointed fangs it sits in wait. With piercing force it doles out fate, over bloodless victims proclaiming its might. Eternally joining in a single bite.
In the evening I'm long, in the morning I'm smallΝΎ When seen in a ballroom, I'm nothing at all.
Always wax, yet always wane: I melt, succumbed to the flame. Lighting darkness, with fate unblest, I soon devolve to shapeless mess.
Strip the skin under my skin, and my flesh you'll reveal. It tastes sweet and tart, now throw out the peel. What is it?