Waiting

Dear baby, here beneath my heart,

I thought that you might come today;

the timing seemed just right.

But the stars are out

And the moon is high

And I sheepishly wonder why

I try to arrange the plans of God.

For now I know

You will not come until the One

Who hold eternity rustles your soft cocoon

and whispers in tones that I will not hear,

"It's time, precious gift.

Now it's time." 

By Robin Jones Gunn

Mothering By Heart