The sun peered
thru my bedroom window,
showing bright like a light
in a dentist chair
blinding me as I yawned,
wanting to spit and get up.

Ah, buttermilk biscuits,
that heavenly aroma
seeping thru the floor vent
tickling my nostrils,
telling my mouth
to start watering.

What’s that I also smell?
Apple crisp with brown sugar n’ cinnamon?
My best friend started talking to me,
that’s my stomach,
“Feed Me, Feed Me Now!”
My belly rumbled louder n’ louder
from under my PJ’s.

“Lord have mercy” Grandma yelled,
“Its time to rise and shine,
say hello to the morning n’ get a move on.”

Another empty plate
licked clean by yours truly,
was pushed away
over the red and white
checkerboard covering,
to the center of the kitchen table.

Just as I was about to let go
the county fair, prize winning,
breakfast busting belch
this side of the Mississippi,
Grandpa spoke up.

“Son, its time you skedaddle n’ puts your
Sunday-go-to meetin-clothes on.
We’s leavin at the top of the hour,
so hitch your horse n’ high tail it upstairs.”

It took a good New York minute
for that all to register in my head.
Grandpa’s hand gestures
got me going.

There I stood in front of my dresser,
all 52 lbs soaking wet,
naked except for my BVD’s
and black cotton socks.

Sunday go to meeting cloth’s,
let’s see, white button down
starched collared,
short shelved shirt, check …
Light tan khaki trousers,
cuffs and pleats, yup …
Brown penny loafers,
with good ole Abe’s face nice n’shiny…

Loop my belt, tucked in my shirt
slipped my shoes on,
“Lord, here I come.”

Religion down south
is right up there
with the Indy 500,
horse’s racing,
n good moon shine.
Only thing was
you had to enjoyed doing all of them
after you went to church.

The sermon was hard to follow
I said my “Amen’s” and “Praise the Lords”
on Q just like the rest
of the good brothers n sisters.

Grandpa, Grandma and me
sat three rows back
from the minister,
hard wooden benches,
high straight backs with no cushions.
Ten people across, eight if you got
Sister Watson next to ya.
Grandpa says” She’s pulling a wide load.”

Finally the congregation stood,
sang a song of praise,
“Sweet Jesus Our Savior”
shortly followed by
announcements of a cake sale,
picnic out back, all was invited
ending with the Lord’s Prayer.

Wheew, I made it through
a day with the Lord.
Guess I wasn’t such a bad boy
this week after all.
Otherwise I wouldn’t be
smacking my lips,
eating fried chicken
that the Colonel would be jealous of,
stuffing chocolate cake
in my mouth
followed by a tall glass
of iced tea,
now would I?
Amen to that.