A lumberjack's tool A short word, kinda cool Or use as a body spray To keep ugly odors at bay

I breathe no air, yet flames may rise, A quiet heart where fire lies. I do not hunger, yet I feed On sparks and fuel to serve your need. Cold and still when left alone, But quick to warmth when I am known. With turning hands or subtle press, I wake to life, I burn, I bless. I hold no taste, I smell no spice, Yet shape the meals you savor twice. From gentle simmer, soft and low, To roaring heat where passions grow. I cradle pots, I kiss the pan, I aid the art of every hand. No voice have I, yet songs are made In bubbling notes and oils that braid. What am I, both tame and wild, A keeper of flame, by humans styled?

I am the highway system of your very life, Working day and night through peace and through strife. One half of me is a pump, steady and strong, Beating out a rhythm your whole life long. The other half is a network of rivers so deep, Moving crimson waters while you wake and you sleep. Together we deliver what your body requires, Keeping oxygen flowing to fuel all your fires.

Tss, tss... Cucumber Melon, Love Spell You lovely ladies wear it well Amber Romance, Pear Glace Take them in, waft away Feeling nostalgic? Represented? How do you apply these aromas scented?

Beneath the trees where secrets sleep, I rise from earth, dark and deep. From decay I weave my woodland spell, Where fairy whispers softly dwell. A velvet crown upon the ground, A hidden jewel where roots are found. Neither plant nor beast What am I?