A Beautiful Adoption Poem

My Own Child
I did not plant you,
True
But when the season is done,
When alternate prayers for Sun
And for rain
Are counted --
When the pain
Of weeding
And the pride
Of watching are through ---
Then
I will hold you high,
A shining sheaf
Above the thousand seeds grown wild.
Not my planting,
But my Heaven,
My harvest --
My Own Child.