I’m born where wandering waters slow, A many fingered hand where rivers meet the sea. In numbers I’m the change you come to know, In letters I’m the fourth, but you still call me, me. What am I?

I have a shiny suit, six legs, and zero respect for personal space. Spelled differently, I caused mania over six decades ago.

I stand tall in fields so bright, Turning my face to the sun’s warm light. Golden petals, seeds inside, A sunny crown I wear with pride. What am I?

I make a tart garnish When cut to a wedge But when turned to stone I give concrete its edge

My teeth spit dust and turn trees into boards I make what builds your homes