Riddles 1

 Riddles 1

For the answers, you must seek on the “Riddles 1 Answer Page,” but do not first peek!

Flies with silvery stealth during the day.

Steals a bit of light to later play.

On otherwise secret doings as it may.

Who or what am I? Can you say?

Now the nearby river trickles shallow.

Plow and harrow, but leave the field fallow.

The soil’s not ready, nor, without me, can the seed grow.

Go with the flow: tell me what I am. Do you know?

Falls, but never makes a sound,

Oft-repeated from sky to ground.

Hides all from view, sights unseen,

Except by the one bird whose round eyes are keen.

Windows, old legend says, to the world of the gods,

Whirl in a dark arch above.

What could ancient science know, even the most scholarly?

Science, then, like balladry, idyllic notions akin to poetry.

Poets speak to them, but, in return, they’re mute,

Except to whisper in the wind, a language akin to music of the flute.

Slow growers, but do so tall and strong.

Who am I? In what group do I belong?

I begin in a cloud,

Go from spring to mouth.

From high to low,

I can’t help but flow.

Howls, sniffs, bites,

Wails, wanders, knifes.

Is this what a wolf does exclusively?

Or could another force do so, unseen but destructively?

What is that force that rises so mysteriously?