Explore

I only appear after the tears of the sky, when the storm has said goodbye.

I wear seven colors, yet I own no clothes, and I bend across the heavens in shining arcs and bows.

Some say I hide a pot of gold at my end, but chase me forever and you'll never befriend me — for the closer you walk, the farther I go.

What am I?

I sound like something precious, a word for one you hold near,

Yet I roam through the forest, with antlers and ears.

Graceful and swift, I leap without fear,

What am I?

I am not a muscle, yet I grow stronger with use. I live in the heart, though I am not blood.

The fearful wish they had more of me, and heroes are named for me. I show up **after** fear arrives, never before it.

A lion may be called by my name, but a mouse can hold me just the same.

What am I?