Late June. Three days ago we kept the Feast
Of John, the Great Forerunner, at his birth.
Midsummer's sun is glorious in the East,
My feet fall silently on forest earth.
The sky above the summit of this Tabor
Has a vast, unbroken, even, sapphire tone -
Or do I see one crescent wisp of vapor,
A single stroke of cirrus all alone?
It is the Moon! I almost thought she'd vanished:
In five more days her cycle will be run,
And every morning finds her more diminished
As she draws daily closer to the Sun,
Like John who hears the Bridegroom and rejoices,
'He must grow greater; I must now grow less.'
Desmond Alban SSF
Holy Transfiguration Monastery, Redwood Valley, 27 June 2019