All the little crystal balls kept neatly in a row

reflecting back the eyes that stare into them

searching for vague forms in the mist

Carving runes on bits of broken bone

to cast high into the air

hoping they spell out an incantation when they land—

anything to howl at the full moon

and listen as the echoes of it wash over the world

Deep in a mirrored image shadows stir

a curtain dances in a whispered breeze

the frayed edges hazy over a moonlit sky

Loose threads are the only thing left

holding back all that waits behind the glass

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Photo by Flora Westbrook from Pexels