It’s 11:55
on Sunday morning.
Where is your child?
Offering is piled
into the brass plates,
freshly polished;
now gleaming in the morning sun.
The last hymn is beginning
as a rustle of gathering
ripples through the sanctuary.
Ladies collect their purses,
some folks pick up bulletins
while others gather
children’s drawings,
or graffiti.
Oh, yes,
your child
is on the back row
doing the Macarena,
with a little extra jive,
to the strains of
“Praise My Soul,
the King of Heaven”!
-Joy S. Barefoot
(View from the balcony, Bedford Presbyterian Church
at the time of the popular "Macarena" dance )
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