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.