The one to grip the seams, And shy away from beams. Though centered in the diamond light it stands, for all to see. It’s best to keep a count, Be weary when it lashes out. It starts its day in a pen of bulls, preparing to take you out.

I fit in the palm of your hand but I fill the whole room. What am I?

A house has a few but music has many. One lets you pass or even bars entry. Another differentiates between music and sound. When spelled differently the boat can be safely bound.

I dance on the wind, light as a dream, a gift from the sky or a bird’s soft gleam. I float and I drift, then rest on the ground, a silent traveler, without making a sound.

I have many teeth, but never bite. I turn around, but never roam.