Walk on the living, they don't even mumble. Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble.
What can be seen but never found that only hides in the unwound?
It's equally comfortable in an orchestra and a geometry textbook. What is it?
Green arrows grow out of my sides. I go from yellow to white. My babies fly in the wind. What am I?
There are millions of me. I am very small but when moving fast I am deadly.
Big as a saucepan, deep as a cup, Even a river can't fill it up. What is it