Now  comes  the  Baby with  the  Boon.

After  painful labour for the expectant  mother,

It is equally  a  labour  for  the  new  arrival,

For  it is  entirely  a  new world it is going  to see.

From cosy  to cruel, from  calm  to cantankerous,

A  new  entry. A table  or  television it beholds,

What does it matter? All the same. The   nurse

Holds  in a   spongy  cloth, the  chubby spongy

Baby,  blessed , Boon comes  to  you,

Transforming  all  your  worries.

A  smile, a cute  caw  or coo, the baby language

 Is    the predictive verdict of  your  future.

Its  carefully  folded  palm, tiny  and fragile

Forays more of a broader perspective

Of  this angst ridden world.   In  the  eventide

It  is  the  Moon, shines  and pours

With  the benign assurance of a   Seer.

It  is  the pot of  luck.