Born of earth yet prized as sky, I wear green calm where secrets lie. I harden patience, not with flame, But time and pressure stake my claim. Kings wore me for luck, not blade, Name the stone that peace has made.

Hard sediment, tough and natural, seen all around. Music, fast and catchy, keep up with the beat. A chair without the ing, a slight motion, forward and back.

Born in layers, black as night, I hold a shine but give no light. Cut and worn, I’m stone, not gem, Named in Greek for claw or stem. What am I?

If life should happen to give you lemons You can make an invisible type If life instead gave you galls and gum I will make a brown or black stripe

I rise and I fall throughout the day, I warn when heat can fry an egg, or when the cold bites hard enough to sting. Between those extremes, I measure everything. My markings decide how precise I can be.