1
Sunrise scatters blue light across the firmament, I intone the
Usual prayers, while there is silence and
No one else in the house is awake.
Dawn brings back memories of my grandmother
Always the first one up on Sunday or any other morning.
Yellow yolks of fried eggs waiting for me in her kitchen.
2
My grandmother never took a day of rested
from fixing breakfast.
She knew each grandchild's favorite food
and fixed it
on Sunday morning
before we all pilled into the Ford
and grandpa drove us to church.
My grandfather was not a particularly religious man;
spiritual,
yes,
but not religious.
Grandpa knew how to say prayers
at meal
or anytime he was asked;
he worshipped God his own way
through his daily labor
and encouraging his grandchildren.
3
Sunday morning
always brings back memories
of my grandparents
and going to church at the
First Baptist Mission
on the wrong side of the tracks
in Blackwell, Oklahoma.
My Sunday morning memories
are pleasant memories
because they were spent with my mother's parents
and not with classmates
who looked down on my siblings and myself
because one sit of grandparents lived
on the wrong side of the tracks.
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