Soon Come (for Diana, who is expecting)

She’s a fat croissant,
Full of milk.
Her belly brings
The moonlit nights
She’s waxing. In
The swelling tides
Are Braxton Hicks,
The kicking tips
Of dancing toes
Waiting to go
Outside and play,
Itching to skip
Across the waves.
She’s a fat croissant,
Full of milk.