In the forest, I sing a tune, like a whispering breeze in June. My teeth bite, but cause no harm, crafting wood with rustic charm.

I hold the clouds at your feet, but fade away in summer heat. Kick me once and I’m undone, a fleeting mirror under the sun

From gentle kiss to strength that kills My absence, all is deathly still

It's been around for millions of years, but it's no more than a month old. What is it?

He’s the worst pirate you’ve ever heard of, But you have heard that he set slaves free. He traded his soul to the depth of the ocean, To pull the Wicked Wench from the sea. With Davy Jones he struck a bargain, Thirteen years to sail, then service to keep. Now name the small bird that shares a title, With the man who returned from the deep.