I am born of a circle but broken in part, A shape in the heavens, and a baker’s fine art. I can tighten a bolt with an adjustable grip, Or cradle the tide where the dark waters slip. With many a street name, my curve is complete, Yet I fade into shadow and bow at your feet. What am I?

Leaves swirl in the wind, Nature's spiral dance begins, Whispering secrets.

I whisper through branches, But never speak. I brush every cheek, Yet never peek. I have no shape, But make kites dance with ease. What am I?

The most natural thing one can experience in this life, an end to all pain, suffering, and strife.

I am great for swimming, fishing, and wondering what just touched your leg.