The tall, white building on M-80
fills with people each Sunday morning.
Cars line up in the parking lot
on the white striped asphalt.
The people file into the building
and seat themselves on red cushioned pews.
The ***** and piano play “Onward Christian Soldiers”
dimly from the front corners.
Women’s dresses tangle around their knees
and high heels blister their toes.
Men’s ties choke them
while they sing, but hymnals are held high.
When the children start to fall asleep
parents pinch them.
The highly-starched congregation stares straight ahead,
and the words of the minister
bounce off their heads.

“But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only,
deceiving your own selves.”

Outside that building
the regal white steeple
reaches up to the sky.
And only the steeple
worships God.