From flour and heat I come to be, then sliced for all to eat of me.

A delicious pick or annoying click. One you love to see and munch, the other you hate because it sells to the bunch. What am I?

I have feathers but cannot fly on my own, and a point but no mind to think. I am often seen at the pub, but I never take a drink. To use me well, you must throw me away, yet if I land in the double, you’ll want me to stay. What am I?

I have many steps but cannot walk a mile, I lean against the wall and stay there for a while. What am I, that helps you reach places up high?

A gleaming shard, thin as a quiver, Barely a whisper, yet it can deliver. From moonlit shards to the sunlight's dance, In its slight form, nature takes a chance.