The bells rang for me
the choir sang to me
and the
angels wanted to hang me
from the ceiling.

I had a feeling that Sunday was here
there was
a smell of salvation as opposed to the bacon
not forgetting the incense of long
forgotten innocence that hung in the air.

Hymns are out,
something about
non-binary,
which worries me
but not unduly so.

The Sun, once gone, is resurrected
as the day goes on its way
to be perfected,

I take a coffee break
waking up is hard work.