 So, for my poem, I've often thought about how a child developing in the womb is on a kind of journey, and it's her own journey, it's almost solitary in a way, she doesn't know that we're all out here waiting for her to arrive. And it seems sometimes a little like the kind of journey that a migrating bird or animal might make where every individual is travelling a route by instinct and it's the same route that every member of her species has travelled before her and will in the future for generation after generation. So this little poem is at the end of my book, Corona Radiata, and it's called Homing. The child knows the way. She is flying with the stars, a dipper tracking her destination by the dipper swing around the pole. The sun is her compass rose, golden dial rising, wind on her cheek, scribble of coastline far below. Magnetic lines of force draw her on, earth slow rhythms laboring in her veins. She signals to her mother, sends whispers across the call, like the scent of water in a salmon's gills. It is time, it is time, it is now. She battles upstream the fling of self against the urgent flow of time through the constricted tunnel of the present towards the act of birth. Then last long heave of muscle, at last the downy head appears the crowning skull. The burns near hang, the midwife says rejoicing, reaching through the pain to catch the slippery creature in the world's meshed hands. There, there, she says again, the burns come hang. Thank you all. That is wonderful. Thank you, Alice. When Alice read this out to me before, I immediately said you have no idea how you have expressed what Midwifery and childbirth is all about. It's, this so describes the feelings that we all feel every time we're honored to be there during the process of birth. So thank you so very much, Alice. And I highly recommend to everybody that you download Alice's Corona Radiata book. I've looked through and read some of the poems myself already. They are beautiful. The link is on the website. So thank you so much. Thank you.