Faith at the Front Door

The bell signaled
Jehovah’s Witnesses
on my porch.

Polite, older, black women in
neat dresses.
Umbrellas tucked under one arm,
tracts under the other.

They looked disconcerted
to hear that I,
in coffee-stained pajamas,
already had a a vision of
heaven, that I was
studying God at that very moment at
my computer before the
bell rang and the dogs loudly
raised the alarm.

I studied God
in them
in that odd minute.

I don’t know that they were pleased.
But I was.

God was beautiful.