adoption poem

This was printed across the back of my copy of the adoption order:

I did not plant you, true.
But when the season is done,
When the alternative 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, by heaven,
My harvest –
My child.
 Author: Carol Lynn Pearson
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Categories: adoption

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