Darwin, my new Godson – poem

Dad is dying, or we thought he was, but I take a weekend off and, as planned, go to Bruges to a christening party. Darwin is three months old and already sizeable in brains and brawn.

3 months old, Bruges, July 2015, son of Armin Uhlig and Yu Dih

The first time I hold you in my arms, you look past me

to the tree or sky, the diaphanous cloud or thin flock

of seagulls rapidly doodling the unanswered blue.

I tell you the green fingers are the engines of life,

chlorophyll is a miracle invented just once, the mimosa

will flower soon and its leaves sleep tight at night.

Your cortex is buzzing exponentially, interacting with

the noisy glittering world. Ding-dong, I sing with the cathedral bells.

Many mysteries fill the air and seed the landscape

including love which we, gathered in the garden, have for you.

You just stare past me, but your miniature digits grasp one

of mine, can we safely dangle you over the edge of the world?

We are responsible, I am responsible, for what we can offer,

a disappointing world jammed full of promise and potential.

You are the miracle, a wild animal, content for now

to be held in my arms . . . an astonishment.

He is a work in progress.