I take things you are done with, And give them a brand-new start. I turn old paper, glass, and cans, And play a green-earth part. Though I look like a giant bin, I help the world stay clean.

Has a bite and a row of teeth, Quite a cutup, some with a sheath Has a handle, but is no door, Drop it and it might pierce the floor.

I am born from nothing, yet I hunger endlessly. Feed me and I grow; starve me and I cease to be. I dance without music and roar without a tongue, And throughout the ages, countless songs of me were sung. I can warm the hands of a traveler lost beneath the night, Or turn a peaceful home into a frightening sight. I paint the darkness orange, gold, and red, While consuming everything beneath the path I tread. I have no bones, yet I can leap. I have no lungs, yet I breathe. I have no mouth, yet I devour. And when my feast is finished, only ashes remain.

I carry hearts full of stories, treasures, and old dreams, Through golden morning sunlight and moonlit midnight streams. I have felt the storm's cold fury and the calm seas gentle breath, Yet I keep moving forward, dancing between life and depth. I may be small enough for one, or mighty enough for many, I can seek distant shores or simply drift where skies are starry. I never ask the ocean where it ends or where it began, I simply trust the water beneath me and follow where I can. I belong to neither land nor sky, though both I can see, For the sea becomes my pathway, and the horizon calls to me. What am I, that floats but never truly rests, Carrying travelers onward upon the oceans vast?

The underwater people spy With this pipe-and-mirror eye. They are quite close, not far away. Unseen by eagles in the sky. They have no gills, but they stay dry. Which is the thing they see you by?