"Dust"

a poem taken from my church's bulletin this week, by Dorianne Laux

Someone spoke to me last night,
Told me the truth. Just a few words,
But I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
Write it down, but it was late,
And I was exhausted from working
All day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor-
Not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn't elated or frightened,
But simply rapt, aware.
That's how it is sometimes -
God comes to your window,
All bright light and black wings,
And you're just too tired to open it.