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.

They say I’m shady, that’s not wrong, I’ve held my ground my whole life long. I’ll leave again, but never go, Ask my rings, they’ll let you know.

Turn these three around and clone them, to lead the crowd in cheer. Normal it’s what’s used to soak a spill, a sloppy smear.

What goes blonde, to fluffy white, to bald in a season?

An earthborn star on the warmest of nights flickers, joining the nebulous spiral of their beloved brethren.