My first five sound an awful lot like gallant men who fought My last four are the lesson gravity has always taught But really I'm that time of day... oh wait, maybe I'm not

In spring, I dangle like your favorite earring, soft as a kitten's whisper, my pollen lightly scattering.

Has a bite and a row of teeth, Quite a cutup, some with a sheath Has a handle, but is no door, Drop it and it might pierce the floor.

The underwater people spy With this pipe-and-mirror eye. They are quite close, not far away. Unseen by eagles in the sky. They have no gills, but they stay dry. Which is the thing they see you by?

On caps, curtains, and banners too, my hanging threads may come into view.