Sunday Morning By Susan King Saunders

street still sleep from sinnin’ saturday night
woman on her way to praise the lord

she wear that wide white church hat
tryin’ to shield her head from god

don’t know why she think he can’t see
into her cloaked and tellin’ mind

woman on her way to church
to sit in first pew

she goin’ to hear the word
she want to see pastor perform

she love to watch him move
across the pine platform

she smile with joy
today she feel the holy ghost

when preacher read the scripture
and gyrates to the pulpit

she’ll fall and flop
like fish before frying

her dress will rise
lust will drip from their eyes

the preacher will cry—glory! glory! glory!
and the church will say—Amen!