I am laid low by the hands that raise me high
My head bowed only to the passing wind
When cut to the core, sugar-sweet, I bleed
My music is greater with my death
No words of my own, I speak for others
I reach always for the sky
This is a week of small riddles and puzzles. See if you can solve them! Hat tip to Xina Marie whose Anglo-Saxon riddle songs inspired me to try my own hand at them.
More falls and sugar are found in my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor. It is available here.