The Watcher

(For my sister’s unborn child at three months, based on a picture from a scan)

Curled as the crescent of half-moon rising,
Waking up to the world within the womb,
Head as an astronaut’s helmet, gazing
Up into space, as a flower in bloom.
Ebb and flow on the flotsam and jetsam,
Living on cargo of craft provided
To sail the marine of rough sea and calm,
Peace and content as yet undivided.
Beyond the rim, become a satellite,
Launch from mother-ship in liberation:
The smallest steps to great leaps in height,
First encounter with next generation.
Surely this is the time of rejoicing,
An alien come to earth, moon-landing.