I am a bridge built without stone, I appear when the weeping sun is shown. I have seven colors but no voice, Finding my gold is a lucky choice.

I trap a rainbow deep in stone, October calls me as its own. Born of earth yet lit like flame, no two behold me quite the same.

They say my kind models an ideal society, Towards the queen, workers show their piety. Watch your step, as I live in a hill, If I'm in your pants, you've lost your chill. What am I?

Calm or not, this riddle is a rat, stuck in one.

In the quiet night, a gentle drum that beats just right. The rhythm of life, steady and sweet, keeps us dancing on our feet.