Hush.
See? Earth’s not in a rush and we
should not be either. She’s quiet
-ly turning, not yearning for speed.
She’s all tiny flit and flutter, tide
and teaspooned time. Take a breath
and hold it like a swallowed moon.
Swoon for sunrise. Shush the noise.
Consider the loose wild sigh
-lence of a broken star. Wildflowers
turning faces to sky and waving to sea.
::
Day 19’s attempt for NaPoWriMo.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
I am 100% swooning over this gorgeous poem.
Again, think about this being about Mary (or any woman) in the early stages of labor.