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.