“3 Neon Visitors”

 Three sisters – two seers and a daughter.

Bridie – streams of mint fresh breath beneath a ballooned canopy of startling blue, a blown wave billowing – a shaken sheet.                                                                               Or rain, caught in sun, sprinkling and fanning opalescent into a million laughing rainbows. She is a sparkle on your eyelash.

Silvia – the sound of water tinkling, heather in her hair, and chandelier cobwebs lit by the sky.                                                                                                                            Wearing jackets of moss the colours of emerald and coal dust. Lumbering limbs cradle her, hypnotised with weight. In a verdant haze – a glittering cloud.

Mirage – the secrets of the galaxy’s ballroom. Of finger folding maths that create cathedral ceilings out of tree canopies.                                                                                  A seer of the stars equal to the mystery of birth. Star dust born in human children, and indeed the make up of everything living, breathing and other, in this Universe.    But she will only whisper visions that feel like the edge of a memory.

                Epoch                                                                                                                       and we play each other like harp strings