You think of me as grey and dull, but I can be surprisingly colourful. Often nocturnal, drawn to flame, who am I, this butterfly's cousin with the short name?

When pruning and wiring becomes an art, creating miniatures that resemble their forest counterpart.

The path of a well thrown American football pass. A staircase that goes round and round. The shape of a galaxy important to me and to you. The cut of a holiday ham.

I've helped sell Coke, don't you know. Against a backdrop of Christmas, mountains of white snow. But of us three, the most dangerous I be. Of us three, they tell you to say goodnight to me. What am I?

In the crown of a giant, a nut is born, Future oak dreams hidden in its form. A cap it wears, like knights of yore, Guarding the forest's future lore.