A Hint of Woodsmoke

A pervasive chill,
In the air,
Splashes of moonlight,
On the ground,
Fog softening,
All the edges,
Stars shining,
Hard and bright,
A stationary spider,
Wakes from hibernation,
To move its limbs,
Back and forth,
Back and forth,
As she keeps a lonely vigil,
In front of her egg sack.

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