I charge into white like a fearless knight, pushing back winter with all of my might. I carve out roads where none could be seen, a roaring blade in a frozen scene.

I'll give the news on a breeze, but no more. If you want to look above, hear my caw. What am I?

A figure in white stands solemnly alone The emotions he expresses are never his own They’re formed by another, an artisan, in haste Before the materials leave from this place. Sometimes he’s plain, sometimes adorned And when he is gone he’s not usually mourned. He has just one brief moment in the sun Before he expires and his time here is done.

I am the fabric friend of shoes and boots. Look for me inside.

Used in the dark to light the way without you will surely go the wrong way with guidance from above you and I come above