My first four are two, double take, see you. My last four are the four at the end of the last sixth of the twelve. Call in dear, we’re in a pickle.

I have a bark but cannot bite, I am very small and light, Broken off by the wind, you’ll see, I'm a tiny piece of a tree

I am a chain that holds no lock, A family made of sand and rock. Scattered like seeds on a floor of blue, I am many destinations, but a single view.

my last four letters are a division of religion I have antennae but cannot transmit I induce paralysis or hysteria in many

Silent sculptor of winter's might, crystal cloak on land and sea. Slippery surface, dancers glide, in drinks, I bring cool delight.