A father's child, a mother's child, yet no one's son.

Who am I?

You see me once in June, twice in November, and not at all in May. What am I?

When it is alive we sing, when it is dead we clap our hands. What is it?

You measure my life in hours
I serve you by expiring
I vanish faster when I am thin
and slower when I am thick
The wind is my energy
What am I?

I shave every day, but my beard stays the same. What am I?

Spelt forwards I’m what you do every day, spelled backwards I’m something you hate. What am I?

Take one out and scratch my head, I am now black but once was red. What am I?

What is in seasons, seconds, centuries and minutes but not in decades, years or days?

As a whole I am both
safe and secure.

Behead me and I become
a place of meeting.

Behead me again and I am
the partner of ready.

Restore me, and I become
the domain of beasts.

What am I?

I am first found in caves, now prolific online; I am a depiction, a drawing, a symbol, or sign. I will convey whichever mood you could wish; or for that matter, a fist, flask, or fish. What am I?