Dropping Annie

dropping annie at the church has become a habit now every early morning while we drive i just look at the magnificence of the rising sun then she talks about trials troubles and tribulations women are made to talk, i notice she is beautiful though i like the splendour of the church the golden altar,chalice the gold and red embroidery of the cassock of the withering priest with too much hair colour beautiful perfect saints in glass cages madonna ,innocent alter boys in red and white jesus on cross and in meditation in the garden is life a cross, nailed suffering vague vibrations of the imprisoned spider,faint morning songs of the little birds morning caress of the infant sun glowing the painted glass window where jesus is falling with the cross for the third and final time the sudden noise of the bell at the alter wakes me out of an unfinished trans then i kneel down may be disturbing others the old ladies i should say not so old ladies,turning piercing eyes of annie stares i close my eyes then like like a cat and pretend i was breaking the decorum of the church continuously unaware lost in stupid dreams then she relegates me to stay in the car for a while before readmitting me for the grace of the almighty god to repent for our sins taught by them i like to stay in the car and observe the subtle variations of the sun