Interrupted~ By Ita O'Donnell

There is a puff of powder blue fog on the hills today,
where grey green meets a mass of cool grey sky,
black yard brushes of woods
entrenched in purple shady hues
rise to claw at the heavens.

This set is before me.
We have on part to play,
I am even masked in make up.

I walk and push and push and walk
two baby girls, twins-
day-lit faces, blue
eyes scanning the scape before them-
a first in colours and chilling light.

Stop. The birds are in on it too.
We three halt our walk and stand still…
for some telling moments:

Life pumps through the heart, through blood vessels and
I pick up on the bare bones of the memory of the racing dee
dum dee dum dee dum of their heart beats tripping and doubling
out drum beats on the Ultra Sound Doppler,
the screen snatches shots of luminous limbs,
of fluttering hearts-
tiny skeletal fleshless features - flash before me…

Here now in colour you, identical two, are kicking
up contented feet,
feeling for and clutching hands.

Layers and layers of life around, above, within, beneath-
for miles underfoot spins the globe that never stops.

It is unreal, all of this, waiting for us to know our place.

The light is tangibly touching
lifting me out of the blue,
I suck in a slow refrigerated breath,
out blows a plume of foggy air.
We push on for time is
tick tick ticking away from us,
the purple woods are now behind me,
my eyes douced with a living film
that rolls and
rolls.


Author Bio:
Ita O'Donnell is a published poet , mother to four and a singer/songwriter. She is ever tinkering with her words, images and alleged finished poems!