Hiraeth

And what way next,
the careless question,
nervous under storms
with no destination
sharp or filled
with fire.

Thunder
in the heel,

the steel of it
resounding

winter,
speeding through the
Minnesota bends;

graffitied cocoon;

too-trusted coat
and the barn-sides
passing,
passing -

strangers
slung over shoulders

and paths
beneath pins.

That stack of blame,
wild as God;

and God 
a broken knife
lost beneath the waves

and your children
wanting
to know

the ways you know
His grace is good.