Runes of Bone

Ripples in street puddles
Are the footsteps
Of rain

They’re the delicate swarm
So fragile
To be broken and smashed
As soon as they touch

So many glass femurs
Frozen for so long
In the sky

Bellowed by

Until they leave their legacy
With the tracks of
Their journey down

Tales and destinies left
In the hands of the superstitious
Who carved their designs

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