Sharp needles penetrate every fiber of my being, until I am no more.

I crackle with life when warmth is sought, a forest's gift to hearth and thought. In stacks, I rest until the spark calls, feeding flames in winter's halls.

Water or walk-in. Shut my door when you're done. Inside me sometimes there's a skeleton. Remove my last letter: you're near or you shut. Remove first and last: I'm a win undercut.

Wooden in construction, and repellent to all evils in general, The fancy ones cost a ton, thought to repel all things spectral.

A wooden line 'twixt land and sky. Keeps the critters from their roam, marking where is truly home.