*
Dust
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.
*
*
sub rosa 
“all bright light and black wings”. A perfect poem. Thanks for sharing!
my pleasure!
Love her work. I took a class with her in grad school!
Ha! Lucky you!
I discovered her work through “The Poet’s Companion: A Guide to the Pleasures of Writing Poetry”, which I am happily reading at the moment.
Oh, that’s a lovely book. She had just published it when I took the class with her and Kim Addonizio.