He had only “sprinkled” before —
before he started serving
that VERY country church.
But it was required of him
that he be more serious about baptism.
So he administered the sacrament
first, in the Tennessee River
while the congregation
gathered on its banks and sang.
Next, a backyard swimming pool
became the sacramental place.
Then it was requested of “the brother”
that a certain creek be used.
But the creek proved too shallow
for the big woman seeking immersion.
She had to be satisfied
with sitting in the middle of the stream
as the preacher’s hand
dipped into its contents
and poured its cleansing contents
over  her forehead.
It was never like that in Connecticut!

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply