Not Blue, but Green Is the SkyRiddles are little poems or phrases that pose a question that needs answering. Riddles frequently rhyme, but this is not a requirement.
My rings tell such a story
Of years past with gracious glory
Where I live is where I stay
From that spot I cannot stray
From my home man taketh me
So they can erect another home, you see
Many others bore into my sides
These things that crawl and things that glide
I weep with beauty or stand with grace
Every year I shed myself to nourish my place
What am I?
AnswerI am a tree. My rings are produced every year, just one, and how large it is tells a story of how that particular year was. Where I grow is where I stay, as I cannot pick up and move. Men cut me down to make their own homes, and creatures such as birds and squirrels live in me. When I shed my leaves they put nutrients into the ground which keep it fertile.
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