July 2009

The Sun at its Meridian

The hour is noon; the sun stands high,

The stones are swimming in the heat,

And underneath the burning sky,

I see my task is half-complete.

The strip of shade is dark and small,

Along the footing of the wall.

Now as I pause, at this high time,

The mid-point of the working day,

I know I too am at my prime,

And ‘prentice hours have passed away.

I’ve reached the longed-for moment, when

I stand among the journeymen.

My youthful strength may soon be lost,

Increase of skill has been my gain,

Though some has come at heavy cost,

And I have paid the price of pain -

When sinews racked against the bone,

As I raised up some weighty stone.

In the swift hours of afternoon,

When shadows lengthen on the site,

Strengthen my arm, for all too soon

The sinking sun gives way to night:

Then guide my footsteps up the stair,

To meet my fellow craftsmen there.

Bro. Martin  Steed

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