Oh, you think you know what you’re seeing? Think again!

If this month were a wetland, it would be called this

I’m a pattern made of things that never truly touch. I guide travelers without moving and change only over ages. Seen at night, I form creatures and objects, though I’m nothing but perspective.

Green crown in the sun, Fragrant leaves whisper to you, Pesto dreams await.

I sound like a beast of legend, yet I appear light as air. With four bright panes of glass, I hover here and there.