I don’t know what to do.
I only know my work—
the cradle, the beam, the yoke.
And so I will do my work–
roll our things into a bundle for the road,
mend the saddle, make a walking stick.
I must trust whatever it is,
this god in her.
It’s not what I thought of God–
all thunder and law–
this is a lover—of my wife,
this coming child.