While I till soil and move leaves, the other leaves soil in your jeans. Our names are the same, except I'm a tool and it's a fiend.

The smallest shoat cannot be cuddled, as it’s covered in thorny thickets.

I’m drawn without pencil, I’m walked without feet. I’m found where choices gather - and where journeys meet. I can twist through forests, or cut through aftermath. Follow me long enough, and you’ll discover your...

I'm not ever green nor ever ANY color - I keep changing with the seasons.

Hokay, so here's ME, chilling. Dang! That is a sweet ME you might say, round! Alright, ruling out the Ice Caps melting, meteors becoming crashed into us, the Ozone layer leaving and the Sun exploding, we're definitely going to blow ourselves up