I run but never walk, I roar but have no mouth. I can carve through stone or cradle a seed, Yet I never leave my bed.

A continuous flow of water or mud, but also of series, movies and whatnot.

What does Sally sell on the seashore regardless of it’s lack of rarity?

Deep in the soil, I slumber and grow, A ruby-hued treasure that few truly know. Earthy and bold, I color your plate, A hidden delight, both hearty and great. What am I?

I don’t bloom with petals, but I’m green and grow just right. You’ll find me where it’s cool and damp. I unfurl my secrets, not with colour but in coils and spirals. What am I?