I have cities, but no houses I have mountains, but no trees I have water, but no fish I have roads, but no cars What am I

In a land of wandering, I point the way, a needle's dance upon my face, guiding lost feet with silent grace.

I am a circle with a missing heart, but I am not broken. I have a skin of gold and sometimes a crown of sugar, yet I have no head. I have a ring but no finger to wear it. I have a body, yet I am hollowed out by my own birth. If you seek my beginning, you will find yourself back at the end. What am I?

In the summer, I protect your feet from the sun. In the winter, I make sure they stay cozy and warm. When you go into the house, leave me by the door, or there will be sand and dirt all over the floor.

I look like a dessert, but I’m not sweet or pink. On a breakfast plate I’m found, next to eggs all hot and fluffy.