Three sisters
Two born of full moons
One red and one blue

The third more special
An anomaly to our brood
Arrived with a new moon.

Three points of the triangle
Our dreams weave together
All sewn through

Premonitions are quieted
To anyone outside
But together our visions hold true

The sight of crows
Means something special
Warnings freezing our instincts.

Judged and called crazy
We don't need the world
As long as there remains us three.