I turn without wheels and rise without wings, I dance with no rhythm, yet stir many things. I’m chased but not caught, I’m felt but not seen, I’m silence in motion, both gentle and mean. What am I?

Grapefruit of the earth, dull and gray; when cut wide are treasures displayed A chest without hinge, key or lock; Hidden within, are treasures of rock

I answer though I never call, but call and call again.

There once was a mouse in a field, Who wanted a nourishing meal. It crept close and squealed, As its fate was sealed, Clutched inside talons sharp as steel. What manner of creature am I?

I carry disease and mail alike, I cannot ride a bike. I hunger for trash and bread to bite, I'll steal your lunch with might. I'll hover above your fancy ride, and paint it China-white. And even though I am just as bright, I'm not a passerine.