Come Sunday Morning

Papa donned a starched shirt,
buttoned up his vest.
Mama's wheatstraw boater
crowned her Sunday dress.

On that gettin'-up morning
the choir clapped their hands.
The preacher hooped and hollered,
while sisters fluttered fans.

Hallelujah! Say, Amen!
The spirit made folk shiver.
The church beat tamborines
and marched down to the river.

Carole Boston Weatherford was a poet, essayist, and business writer when this poem appeared.

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Sojourners Magazine June 1993
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