Red Maple Leaf
Click for meditationRegarding "Red Maple Leaf"
O’ how autumn casts
A spell up’n me, placing me into
An annual rite of reflection,
Making my September
And October susceptible to
All the memories composing
Who I am. The memories alight
Like chickadees whene’er
I hear a zephyr stirring
In the tops of trees, or see
The striking red plumage
Of maples doing their best to
To op’n my eyes to see,
Or as I sit the shores of Plum
Island and experience the
Hues of waves turning from
Cold to an e’en colder
Green…What heartstrings
Are pulled, sometimes I
Cannot e’en identify, ‘cept
I feel there is something
I am longing for…
And the transient beauty
Of fall and its fleeting
Glimpse are simply too
Irresistible for me
Not to savor and overly
Imbibe…
Leo Carroll
November 5, 2020
A single leaf, the red
Majesty of a maple before me
Pleased to be seen,
Something about it,
Something sublime,
Something I love, felt every
October when my
Reflection turns into
Waxing rhyme,
Something which
Uncannily lingers within
Me, cuddled ‘neath
The covers and spooning
Alongside my soul,
Winter soon to come,
But autumn’s colors
My brothers and sisters
From a long ago
Primeval old…
Leaves and Verses
Click for meditationRegarding "Leaves and Verses"
When we marvel at an
Autumn tree in all its glory, still
Full-bodied with magnificent leaves,
At first glance the leaves may
Appear more or less the
Same, but each, in fact, is
Different, and when a closer
Peek is taken, is shown
The majesty of a widely
Diverse Creation. Just like us!
A tree replete with leaves
Can be viewed like a portrait
Composite of ourselves, with all
Our innumerable moods,
Thoughts, and emotions, some
Fleeting, some longer lasting,
Some leaves slipping to
The ground early, while others
Lingering before falling
To the soil, everything
Transitory but at the same
Time regenerative, nothing ever
Lost, everything part of
Our human nature and in its
Own right profound,
All things working together
To show the complexity
Of the Universe’s work of art,
And, yes, as reflected
In our very own existence!
Leo Carroll
October 20, 2020
Each leaf, each varied hue,
A metaphor for my thoughts, my
Emotions, my moods, and now each one
Fated to fall to the ground –
Taking with it my pleadings, my
Thanksgivings, my autumns,
My springs, my memories,
My choices, my regrets, my
Victories, and soon to be all lying
Mixed and interchangeable
And undecipherable up’n the
Earth, until a plow someday churns
Them into rich soil, to be
Spread like butter again up’n
Next year’s verse…
At the Well
Click for meditationRegarding "At the Well"
At anytime and anywhere can
Be found relief, especially relief from
Our very selves, or relief from
What is going on around us — the
General cacophony of noise
In the guise of supposed sound —
And at the moment of this
Writing, the incredible
Crescendo of Covid-19 and
Politics, all mind numbing and
Soul deadening, unless
For a moment we can “see”
The natural world which
In its glory is still unfolding
Around us, and which is
Oblivious and immune to the
Fury which humanity
Wreaks and manifests…
In my rock garden, the
Faces of three flower petals –
Petunia, marigold, and
Daisy – descendants of
Descendants of descendants,
Living proof that not all
Life has to bow before the
Obscene, and definitely sufficient
To halt me in my tracks
As I browsed amongst my
Flower beds, already working to
Ready them for next spring,
Sadly like an automaton in my
Actions, and almost missing
Their three faces, reminding me
That fall was not yet
A memory…
Leo Carroll
October 12, 2020
Their faces circle
Faster and faster before me,
Autumn’s smile to
Slacken my thirst, whirring as
If inviting me to cross
Their threshold,
Their door wide-open,
My knees pressed to the leaves,
Their roots in the
Universe, my countenance
Inching closer, my
Mind in glorious blur…
Finally
Click for meditationRegarding "Finally"
Sometimes our path may
Seem so arduous, so unrelenting, so
Littered with choices and
Decisions and events, which
To look back up’n later
Can leave us worn and spent,
Almost turned to stone like
Lot’s wife, each step
Taken a test of perseverance
And might, each step with
No chance to repeat,
But just to move
Forward with a hopeful
Heartbeat…but what if we
Suddenly came up’n and
Arrived at the final few steps,
And could smell the
Blessed salt air of rebirth
And fragrance, and e’en hear
The gentle lap of waves
As if applied against our
Psyche and soul had come
A warm compress…such
Thoughts came to me when I
Saw two photographs
Recently taken at Sandy
Point on Plum Island.
I could not help but put
Myself in the shoes of the
Photographer, and thus
Unfolded before me the
Poem written in first person.
And so. a peridot-green canopy
Became a dream-like,
Long-sought tunnel
Of welcome, and on the
Oth’r side of it – the
Magnificence of a sun-bathed,
Pristine beach, with
Immaculate sands purring,
“Behold the absolute
Wonder of peace and
Release.”
Leo Carroll
September 28, 2020
Through the portal
I flow, its canopy my safe
Passage to shelter
Where e’en my whims
May follow…and then out the
Oth’r side I someday
Step, my journey
O’er, and my deepest
Wish waiting on the beach –
With my breathing
Breathless…
Plover
Click for meditationRegarding "Plover"
In both the Old and the
New Testaments, the physical
Manifestation of God’s
Presence or approval was
Frequently seen in the
Form of a white dove, an
Absolutely meek, gentle
Metaphor for the innocence
And perfection of
Creation. But when I
Recently saw the
Photograph of a newly-
Born plover standing on the
Shore of Plum Island,
I felt that it, too, could be
Construed as another example
Of God’s blessed Word
And Work. The photograph
Was taken by a ranger at the
Parker River National
Wildlife Refuge in July 2020,
And to me captures an
Image of Creation as out of
The primordial waters
It first stepped onto the
Universe’s burnished sands.
Leo Carroll
September 16, 2020
In lieu of a dove,
Steps out of a cloud the milky
Apparition of a plover,
Every bit as innocent, every
Bit an equal emissary
And herald of heavenly Love,
This time not circling
Above the bank of the
River Jordan, but meekly
Standing Plum Island’s
Shore, where its feet on the
Sands by fresh grains
Are supported.