Answer:
I am a pretty one, fluttering in the pale blue sky. Delicate, fragile on the wing, indeed I am a pretty thing. What am I?
What has an eye but cannot see?
The thunder comes before the lightning, which comes before the cloud. The rain dries all the land it touches, wrapping the earth in a blood red shroud. What am I?
I cannot be bought, cannot be sold, even if I'm sometimes made of gold. What am I?
I've been around for millions of years, but I am no more than a month old. What am I?
A little house full of meat, no door to go in and eat.