I was wrong about the rain
Robins are calling for it
Fragrance of honeysuckle and pine
have joined the ozone--
Priest in swirling raiments
dangling sensor on a chain
waving it in air before the altar
clink clink clink
Releasing smoke that bends the mind
before the monstrance of the sun
with storm surrounding
Clouds sift through the rays and rain
Bowing thrice--
clink clink clink
He waves it in the air before the altar
releasing smoke
into the high and holy
Inchoate murmurs
follow
incense hands
down
into the nave
As Catholic kids, we were dragged to mass pretty regularly. Between being terrifically bored, I got my little spirit elevated by all the pageantry of bells, and music, art and statuary, the Latin litany with its dead language, foreign sound. I was especially fascinated by worship of the incense-- the atmosphere it created.
The nave is the main rectangular hall for worshipers. Related to the words ship and belly.