I am spun before the wings take flight, a fragile cradle wrapped in white. Yet from those threads, so soft and fine, are woven garments fit to shine.

What do you call a toy spinning on a wannabe mountain?

Look close, it lives beside the c. Next to a delta, it means to flee.

Often seen in the hands of Zeus, Though my depictions are somewhat loose, For in real life I'm no uniform shape, Just a path from the heavens to the landscape My name is also a word which means a fast run, Or a latch for a door you slide a bar on, If you have a screw loose you can also use me, Usually paired with a nut to keep things securely

I’m like a rattle for cattle Lots of people seem to want more, more, more.