A drink most exquisite, luring bee to a flower. A mead for the gods and their immortal power. My first half, a bridge, chest to head. My second half, the yellow in the teeth.

I’m small and oval, wearing a green coat. Crack my skin and you may find a hard stone inside. Some keep me in salty baths, others press me for golden oil. On pizzas and salads I hide in plain sight. What am I?

When Boreas doth breathe his icy breath, The earth dons a cloak of slumbered death. Hesperus, with frosty kiss, chills the night, Till Phoebus returns to renew the light.

They can get inside you, but you don't want them there. You might live inside one and completely unaware. A sign of life if in the ocean and many rise with air in motion.

In forest's realm where whispers sway, a wooden limb in sun's warm play. Connects the sky to roots below, where creatures dwell and breezes flow.