Spring wind cut across the old farm, gliding around its hand-hammered walls.
Between a corrugated metal sheet and a sign advertising oil for $2.91 every gallon, a spider startled from slumber.

Surprised to be awake, she stretched her eight legs as if to count them.
How long had she been waiting with readiness?

She was very patient in the spot she had already picked out for herself. These strong threads of silk used to twang with stickiness, but when she tapped them now they flowed outward instead.

It was here where she gave birth to hundreds who blossomed into life and sailed away on the winds. On a night with lightning but no rain…

Time unspun and she returned to her early days, when she danced with air and winked back at sunlight. Even though her eyes were already cloudy, the memory was so fresh.

For her, the future and the past had always been wedded in a cycle of web and wither. And it felt like she had already seen this day in a gauzy dream.

Rising higher in the sky was a new dawn, crying with fresh dew.
When the wind died, she stayed still with it.

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