Shaken, rocked, up and down, back to front, a silent tempest of ever-frozen flakes rages over a still moment 'neath a robe of glass, then quickly calms.

I’m strong till the moment you need me the most, then vanish so quick you’d swear I’m a ghost. When I buffer, you suffer, it’s always the worst, but somehow those ads still manage to load first.

Some call me sweet, some feel a burn. They tend to weep. Not my concern. I rise from depths, yet reach for sun. Tears flow forth and noses run.

Curved crescent cloaked in yellow, sweet companion of monkeys, and slips beneath feet like a sneaky fellow.

I can move you across water, but I cannot help you at all, on land. People use me to row and row.