On a moonlit stroll, soft as a whisper's grace, Leaving behind a gentle trace. Echoes of journeys, paths to trace, Silent guide in life's embrace.

I appear when the world turns white, Crafted by hands in the cold’s delight. I vanish when the sun draws near, Leaving only water and cheer. What am I?

Vikings blew on me, the Greek drank from me and rhinos wear me.

What’s black, white, and loved by everyone?

Though I look dry, I am mostly water. Tiny explosions frozen in time and forest. Drown and brown me in butter, Heat me and eat me.