I am a strange creature,

Hovering in the air,

Moving from here to there,

With a brilliant flare.

Some say I sing,

But others say I have no voice,

So I just hum-as a matter of choice.

The strangest creature you'll ever find: Two eyes in front and many more behind.

Creeping on its belly, curled into a ring.

Eyes forever open, beware its lethal sting.

A guy always in armor,

But never been at war.

Sleeps in armor, walks in armor.

Slow he is, but heavy is the armor.

No sword, no bow, spear.

Who is it?

One where none should be,

or maybe where two should be,

seeking out purity,

in the kings trees.

What am I?

When is it bad luck to meet a white cat?

What kind of can never needs a can-opener?