I’m a tiny forest at first glance, green branches packed in a single stance. I’m firm when raw, I soften with heat, and though I look like a tree, I’m something you eat.

I sound fierce, but I barely bite, I wear four windows, kissed by light. I zip and hover, blink and fly, more fairy than a beast, what am I?

When raindrops dance, I stand guard forever, Shielding you from wind and weather. With a gentle twist, my arms open wide, A portable roof, where dry you abide.

In the morning, I slip through the blinds, A golden line that the sleepy mind finds. I can make you want to play, So long as the clouds are astray, A dazzling thread that the day unwinds.

I arrive with a twin but rarely stay together. My color warns, my taste forgives. Break me open and I betray my softness with a stone that refuses your teeth. Birds steal me first, humans argue whether I belong on stems or in jars. What am I?