The Itinerant Elder

I go from house to house
With stained index cards
Detailing
My mother’s, mothers’ recipes in a plain wooden box.
With a Sunflower, my cousin pasted, on the front.
Fruits for all pantries and appetites.

You don’t need to go to the store when I come to see you.
We’ll use whatcha got on hand.
And of course, if you invite the right folk, more with be provided-
the leftovers can sustain
Working folks for days.
I come when I please
I don’t call ahead.

This is first-century Church
The is the sawdust and the pound cake.
This is what really got the Pharisees hot
For His head.
Walking on water, water to wine,
These are all well and fine
But the High Crime
Is mixing with folks of all Misdemeanors

And it’s still a radical act.
We ain’t FaceBook friends.
None of these dishes goin’ be on the Instagram.
There’s no MLM presentation at the end of night.
I’ll take Nanny’s pinewood box
Of chicken dumplings and cornpone
Cabbage and Collards
To the next tired lonely ‘ol house that will have me in
And we’ll practice resurrection again
Supper is on at 7:00.
Y’all wash up and come on in.