Tiny lantern in the summer night, flickering bright yet without flame, a gentle dance in twilight's frame.

I have a colorful face, but no eyes to see. I drink only sunlight, yet I am sweeter than honey. What am I?

Silent guardians of history, sculpted by time's hand, they stand steadfast against the elements. Unyielding and ancient, they cradle the earth's secrets, whispering tales of past eons in their stony silence.

In cauldrons of aqua, a green spirit’s delight, A cleansing specter, unseen by night. Humble alchemist of water's rebirth, Its touch turns murk to purity, for what it's worth.

THESE CHURN AIR The letters above will help you find, A pair of words that bring to mind, Massive storms over land and sea. Tell me now, what can they be?