Observations In a Country Church

Dust motes dancing through glancing light, refracted through stained glass windows, bright. The smell of old pine and communion wine lingers, wax polish and roses from grieving widows fingers. A faint smell of incense, intense in it's nuance, old hymn books weave their soporific fluence. The imposing lectern, Gothic and glowering, the Nave and Transepts, jaw dropping, towering. The silence echoes in reverent tones, so as not to disturb the pious bones interred in alcoves and beneath stones inscribed with the names of the chosen ones. Hassock and cassock, pew, aisle and choir, childish imaginings of brimstone and fire. Quiet reflections in an old country church then out to dappled sunlight through Yew, Oak and Birch.