Saints Eat Bananas, Sinners Eat Honeybuns

a poem

He likes

quiet mornings

just as much as calm nights

He hopes

it doesn’t rain

and knows we need it

you may find him

on the boat in

no shirt and water shoes where

He seeks

joy on the lake water

with family and friends

He wears

a stetson for special occasions

Boots and blue jeans for all other situations

His crown

is a cap

supporting

the family ranch

the church

his wife’s business

or step sons rock band

He adorns

one from his collection as

He manicures

the lawns of homes across east Texas

making hard labor seem effortless by the work if his hands

He keeps

Bud Light a cooler away

in the bed of the truck

underneath water bottles

He sings

the words he can remember

to country radio

or mix CD’s

He watches

the Cowboys lose

and golf when he’s napping

He raises

chickens, turkeys and goats

grows a garden of vegetables

He’s Texan to the core.

He spits

into the ground sends

curses through the air

he’ll cut down your tree

split the wood and sell it

burn it in the grill he built

where he smokes brisket

He provides

His coffee is black,

he likes to laugh,

This Baptist has an open container

while catering the

Methodist Men’s Barbecue

Used to smoke,

but quit for his kids

has a cigar every now and then but

every single night for the past 20 years

his wife sets out

a banana and a honeybun

so at 5:30 in the morning

when he leaves his home

to assume the role of

assistant meat manager

at the grocery store

in the next town

down the road

He can have breakfast on the way to work.

Saints eat Bananas

and

Sinners eat Honeybuns

and my Dad is a little bit of both.