Hand in hand

The engine ticks quietly 

in the cold,
As we wait at the 

sleepy station 

for mommy's smile, 

a small voice floats up 

from the back seat:
"Daddy, I haven't 

told you this before..."

"Yes, sweet?" | mutter, 

half-distracted 

by the daily grind 

rattling in my head

"I feel really safe 

when I keep my hand in yours"

A frantic thought escapes 

my unwitting lips, hope 

or fear or both perhaps:
"But is it going to be 

big enough for you, sweet?"

Her reply rides 

a gentle moment 

fluttering softly to the ground:

"It will always be big enough, Daddy"

A head butt …

… of affection

Is all I get 

These days 

No hugs no more

from the unexpected 

package Santa sent us

15 years ago

Slightly early for the

Festive lights

And yet she lit up

Our universe leaving

No dark corners behind

Eternal smile bringer 

With a little hand that 

No longer slips into mine

An eye roll 

Is all I get

These days 

A well aimed sock

Bounces off my head

‘Attack!’ comes the

Squeaky war cry

While exploding giggles 

Oil the gears of

Our laundry war

Sensible demure

sighs of restrained

exasperation

Is all I get

These days 

Fifteen is when 

A new friend calls,

Inviting you out

Into the darkness,

Anxiety, bringing

Their hooded 

buddies along

Fear and loathing

And ennui perhaps

With a long list

Of what’s wrong

With this world 

full of

Old idiots like

Gruffalo daddy

It is all unfair and 

It has always been so

And we did try, but

Not hard enough

And it needs your 

Sense of fairness

And heartfelt outrage

And innocent sincerity

Radhika

You free radical

You super-powered

Superoxide

———————

I step 

- rather gingerly -

off my soap box

To no applause 

The silent treatment 

Is all I get

These days 

Partner in crime

Sandy Denny’s
human harmonica warble 
wonders where the time goes 

The rhetoric ricochets 

around the car 

crawling towards 

the station 

where she waits 

phone in hand 

Zoomed into the 

last meet of the day

Time flows in 

leisurely arrogance

from everything 

to nothing

And back again

Sloshing around 

in reckless youth, 

carefree giggles hiding

furtive glances thrown 

at her, hoping for 

attention and approval

Trickling slowly 

in endless waits 

hunting for the 

promise of hope 

in the shadow

of despair 

Seeping into the 

pavement cracks 

on a random street 

where sprouts 

new things to do and

new places to go

Clinging to 

sweaty icicles 

on days when

the cold inside 

is too harsh 

for the frost outside

Swirling around those 

strands of grey 

peeking through 

sensible mommy hair

Trying in vain

for a foothold

in those faint outlines 

stencilling her smiles

Sandy Denny, I know 

where the time goes

From one soul 

to another

And back again

While stardust 

takes our shape 

for a brief sizzle,

before time 

steams away 

when it is

time to go

Happy anniversary 

My partner in time

The buttercup

Radhika told me something interesting the other day.

If you pluck a buttercup and hold it up under your chin you will know if you like butter or not.

If the sunlight reflects on your chin you like butter, and If it doesn’t, you don’t.

‘It is a silly game we used to play when we were little, Daddy’ she hastened to add.

I was very intrigued of course. Any opportunity to learn form your children is not to be ignored. 

I had never looked closely at the buttercup before, and sure enough when I pay attention now I see that it has shiny petals!

As if someone had carefully spread butter on them before holding them up to the light (oh, I see how the name makes sense now).

But why? came the question bubbling up from the depths of my mind it it’s annoying little voice as usual.

Apparently there is both a why and a how.

How first (in a tiny bite size):

There is a layer of epidermis in the petal, beneath which lies another layer of airspace which acts as an optical distorter, essentially reverberating the light that comes through, aided by an irregular deeper layer of starch granules to scatter it.

Details here:

https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rsif.2016.0933

And why?

Evolution and survival of course as usual.

1. The reverberating sunlight makes it glossy and attractive to pollinating insects from a further distance, better than other small flowers can achieve.

1. The satellite-dish shape of the buttercup makes the reflected light ricochet off the parabola of petals to bounce back into the centre where the reproductive organs are, again making it a more effective flower on cold spring mornings in temperate climates where sunlight may be sparse.

Apparently this layer of air tucked under the epidermis is not a big deal and is a common mechanism by which butterflies get their shiny wings.

What is interesting though is that the humble buttercup is one of the very rare examples of having this air layer in the plant kingdom!

None of the highly sought after, rich and famous celebrity flowers have this special feature.

Fascinating as always how nature beats mankind at every turn and how science allows us to acknowledge our irrelevance. 

 

I guess at least we have appreciation of beauty as the lone saving grace for our species:

https://youtu.be/FvluBVhfGcw

The heart of the matter

The visceral pericardium
is adherent to the heart 
Peel it away and the heart bleeds
And bleeds
And bleeds
———————————————————-

As it plunges head first
through life, often into darkness

The heart is peppered 

with scuffs and marks
Cuts and bruises and
The occasional 

round house kick 

Skewered and stabbed,
sometimes from behind
Wrenched and ripped 
from its moorings

But then, in the lull
Between storms
It pants alone in
A deep dark hollow

Licking its wounds 
Looking in detached
curiosity at every
pockmark and gouge

It tucks away
Memories of pain
Ripping through flesh
Raw and visceral

In the space 
between thoughts
Wrapped in cling film
For future use

Only to be brought to light
If you bother 
To get close enough 
————————————————-
The visceral pericardium 
is adherent to the heart 
Peel it away and the heart bleeds
And bleeds
And bleeds

Empathy

The grief of others

Is a pebble 

you chance upon

On your walk in the park

Under the cherry blossoms

Smooth and worn

And glistening softly

In dew,

or tears,

quiet and irrelevant 

Until you pick it up

when it turns into

a minor asteroid

Crushing your hand

and heart

And yet, as you hold

that molten lump

burning a stranger’s

soul shape

Into yours,

you wonder ...

how long could you bear

this bottomless thimble

of painful synonyms

brimming with

searing, burning, 

withering, sweltering, 

scorching, blistering,

exquisite agony  

To see if it wilts,

and droops,

and stains

your soul with

self-inflicted,

guilt-ridden,

yet carefully titrated 

Empathy

Until Selfishness 

kicks in and you toss

that impertinent stone

back into the undergrowth

What difference does it make

to know the name of the child

lying face down on that beach?

Or the limbless dreams 

drowning in sunken eyes 

in a land far far away?

(Now available in 4K Ultra)

What difference does it make

when a man in his twenties

tells you in a matter-of-fact tone

(his pain thankfully contained 

behind his mask),

now that his wife is dying

he does not have 

a Home anymore?

Let me pause -

an irreverent moment 

To drown another rock

In a deep dark pool

Somewhere only I know

To join that other one

Still whispering in my ear

After a decade 

A teenage daughter’s 

Question gone begging

‘Who will walk me 

down the aisle now,

Doc?’

The grief of others

is the promise of tears

that never break free

Ominous shadows 

under the waves

around your 

Paradise Island

that you choose 

not to see

Wrinkles

The ground sighs 

a green stick fractures 

underfoot I look down 

at puddles of sky

where schools of 

shadow leaves 

swim up to meet

their falling kin 

riding gently down on

air that smells of stale

raindrops clinging 

on for dear life to 

my old umbrella 

with ribs that nip 

at stray strands of

grey smoothed down 

by a careless left hand 

while Adam counts

colourblind crows as 

that red crest twitters

heavily down on a 

branch scribbled in shades 

of green slowly folding

into a scrunched up 

memory of a random walk 

curling up for the night 

into a coarse wrinkle

in my wandering mind

Genesis

 

she looked as him

As if he mattered

a tentative wish

fluttered down 

Seeding a shy nook

In his soul

If only he could  

Hold her hand 

To gently trace 

the turn of her fingers 

Forevermore 

Under this blazing maple 

Where once landed

A little whirligig

Of love

Rise and shine

But mother, please,

Just another minute’

Said the sleepy sun 

to Lady Time

‘I love my fog blanket

And my cloud pillow,

And surely the world 

can wait a while’

‘If only, my child’ 

said The Mother 

of all the 

has-beens 

and the 

maybe tomorrows

‘See that waiting tree

Wishing to be green,

And that tiny flower

Dreaming of yellow,

And that weary path

Longing for a journey?’

‘None can start 

without you,

nor do I hold 

any meaning,

elsewhere in my 

Eternity’

‘So go out and shine,

In blazing glory 

It is a good day

when you are around’

There is no hate in this world

Except in the hearts of men

Lockdown new year

As thoughts of love

gather in wrinkles 

of time and skin

Memories float

gently down - 

moon daisy petals

settling softly into

our smiles  

Our old selves

huddle close 

around campfires

making room 

for new faces 

oddly familiar 

behind masks 

Let us rejoice 

drawing lines 

In flowing water,

slowly wearing 

our soul stones down 

Let us pause

a lingering moment 

To look both ways

in our hall of mirrors 

Pondering the

End of old beginnings 

And the beginning 

of new ends 

Let us aim to 

Be less human,

better, kinder,

Less selfish perhaps

like other animals

Running wild and free

Until we pause again

To review,

Reassess,

recalibrate

Let us remember,

Looking out from 

Our little bubbles, 

Our non overlapping

Venn diagrams,

That in this world

of us vs them,

there are no others 

Have a happy new year

Anniversary bear

 ‘Happy anniversary sweet’

Whispered the forest spirit

Caressing his paw 

‘Grunt grrmmm grunterr’

Replied the Anniversary Bear

Sleep clinging to eyelids like

last night’s icicles

‘Groob grraah ggrruubuvursary’

He tried again 

chasing after the

frog stuck in his throat

The Anniversary Bear 

climbed out of bed 

and lolloped slowly 

down the stairs

‘Daddy! Have you got her a gift!!!?!!!’

A bushy tailed bunny rabbit 

bounced into view,

tossing a bagful of 

Prickly exclamation marks

At the Anniversary Bear

As he padded to the sink

‘No one will know’

He mumbled to the bear 

In the mirror, 

putting the unused razor down,

and pulled a flimsy mask 

over grizzly stubble

slowly turning itchy after

three days of neglect

Anniversary Bear played shop

grunting down the phone,

Pawing at keypads,

Clawing his keyboard,

His stomach rumbling

Along as he grumbled 

Through the day

On the way home he paused,

hunched over his wheel, 

looking balefully at

The empty buckets where other

Bears had rummaged for 

last minute flowers

The car crept quietly up the drive

Avoiding eye contact in

The rear view mirror 

Left over bean sprouts

steamed silently 

As Anniversary Bear

played panda 

on the couch corner

Lightning chopsticks 

chopping chop suey

‘Why are you here?’

He asked

The puddle of nothing 

Under his pillow

‘You found me under a rock’

It replied

‘I am yours now’

Anniversary Bear shrugged

And curled up against

The familiar shape 

Under the old duvet

‘Groob grraah ggrruubuvursary’

He mumbled in his sleep

As a vague smile flitted

Across his greying muzzle 

The scientific method

‘Yuk! cold tea?!’ and he slammed my cup back down after a quick sip.

‘Hari doesn’t like cold tea, Daddy’ piped up his little sister.

‘Aha! That’s what I call a blanket statement, and how you build your bias over time’ I said rather too enthusiastically, in a desperate exploitation of the opportunity to broaden minds, ‘and now I can prove why your statement is wrong Radhika - and then you will see how your thoughts and opinions change. You see the thing is you know Hari likes ice tea, which is also cold tea, so you see how your opinion was biased by recall of a recent event? This is how people become prejudiced, and in research we call it -‘

I got no further, for Hari shut me down with this as his sister erupted into endless giggles:

‘And then you get punched in the face for being annoying, Daddy!

 Welcome to the real world’

🤷🏽‍♂️