I live in a wall, yet I am not a brick.

I let in the sun and the moon's soft light, but the wind and rain must stay outside.

Through me you see the world, yet the world sees through me too — we meet in a **pane**.

When it rains, I wear moving tears; when it snows, I wear frost for lace.

What am I?

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?

I'm born as a bean, but I never become a plant in your cup.

I'm ground down every morning, yet I lift people up.

Dark as night but beloved at dawn, I make millions shake without a single touch.

Add me to a mug and you can't hold me for long — the aroma is too tempting.

What am I?

I am a master of contrast, dressed in a suit of ink and snow, wandering the mist-covered mountains where the tall stalks grow.

Though I am built like a bear, I have no taste for the hunt. I prefer to sit in the shade and munch on a crunchy, green feast.

With dark circles around my eyes, I look as if I have not slept in ages, yet I am a peaceful icon known across the ages.

What am I?

I command the restless realm, where crashing waves obey.

With a trident's mighty thrust, I shape the watery way.

Horses of the sea I tame, and storms become my play.

Who am I, master of the deep, where sunlight fears to stray?

I am born of the earth, yet brewed by human hands.

I can be bitter or sweet, dark as night or light as dawn.

I awaken the weary and inspire the creative.

What am I?