Prayer
Click for meditationRegarding "Prayer"
So many gifts have
Been given me, but so many
Of these I have let slip
Past me, through my
Fingers, whether
Unnoticed, overlooked,
Or taken for granted.
I am painfully aware of
My stumbles along my pilgrim’s
Path, but seldom have I
Seen the treasures
Offered to me as petals
To re-assure my feet.
Lupines, sweet lupines, are
In that category of
Innocent palliatives,
And I thank the
Photographer who
Took the picture which
Reminds that heaven
Is lined with unimaginable,
Beautiful simplicity,
And on this blessed planet
Its here starts.
Leo Carroll
July 11, 2019
Lead me to where the
Lupines live, and gladly amongst
Them I’ll lie, with purple
Pall bearers in phalanx
Around me, and their pointed
Petals as gentle shields,
Poised against all which would
Unsettle my mind…
Looking into the Face of a Dandelion Puff
Click for meditationRegarding "Looking into the Face of a Dandelion Puff"
When I looked at that
Dandelion puff, my immediate thought
Was I was looking at a facsimile
Of what the Big Bang must have first
Appeared in the beginning salvo’s
Nanoseconds…an ever-expanding,
Billowing, outward scattering,
Which to this very minute
After fourteen billion years
Still continues! What mystery!
What breath to set all that in motion!
And what a breath we, too, have,
Created as we are in God’s image,
To likewise seed our own self-made
Universe, an aspect of mine
Being my meek garden, which
Sits astride one mere acre of this
Blessed planet earth!
Leo Carroll
June 29, 2019
I have seen the universe,
But not through some telescope’s
Unimaginable magnification,
But with my own eyes
As they burrowed into the
Innocent face of a dandelion puff,
Where before my gaze
Unfolded a microcosm of God’s
Creation, just like at the
Big Bang, when The Almighty’s
Lips gently blew…and little
Star seeds were sown to the far
Corners of somewhere…
Ode to Iris
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to Iris"
Many years ago,
Someone walking past
My garden told me
That an iris was a symbol
Of “friendship.” I had
Never heard that before,
And to this day do not
Know if it is true or not.
However, the sincerity and
Certitude with which
This was said to me have
Always stayed, and
So every year when the
First shoots of spring
Start to show themselves
In April, nay even late
March, I always look to
Confirm that some of these
Shoots belong to irises,
And when I see them I smile,
Because that person’s
Comment re-lives in my garden
At that moment, and also
Later in June when
Lavender petals radiate,
As if still trying to catch that
Passing person’s eye.
Leo Carroll
June 23, 2019
Someone once told me
You were a symbol of friendship, and
So in my garden you flourish
With those words inscribed
As nourishment.
Lavender seems to be
A favorite of your colors, and
So I till its hue more
Than all June others.
Daffodils
Click for meditationRegarding "Daffodils"
It came to me
That my own pilgrim’s path
Resembles the
Seasonal flow of my
Garden in a four-part act, with
The fresh growth of
Springtime’s hope and
Rebirth akin to my
Ever-evolving
Renewal, followed
By the endurance
Required in the summer
Heat of July…a
Metaphor for the
Endless twists and turns of
The human condition
As it sits the beach of
Low and high tides…
And then the final
Burst of color and beauty
In autumn, before
Plunging again
Into the deep sleep
Of winter, only to
Arise again in April,
Pointed and poised to
Resume my journey,
But always bowed by the
Growing pains of
Bloom in my
Season of change…
Leo Carroll
May 7, 2019
…One of the first
Fruits of spring — daffodils
Buttery-yellow and
Dangling from the
Ear lobes of morning —
And at their feet
In fealty, the remnants of a
Once-magnificent,
Autumn leaf, placed by
Winter’s wind and
Now a companion
And witness to
The fresh shoots
Of daylilies green,
And all of these
Stirrings staring into
The stoic eyes of
Garden stones, the
Singular thread
Stitching together
My rock garden
As my shifting
Seasons unfold…
Home of Stone
Click for meditationRegarding "Home of Stone"
Again and again
I return to say
That whatever I believe
In my heart
Represents best
What in life
Seems true
And trustworthy
Is seen in a stone wall
Cutting on a perfect
Heading through
The woods, as
Much a part
Of what sits in
New England
As maple, birch,
And oak, and the
Animals which scurry
Amongst the crevasses
Of the rocks which
The wall’s builders
First fitted together
When up from
The earth was
Offered in glacial
Oblation the finest
Granite objects
The Universe
Ever saw.
Leo Carroll
April 11, 2019
A stone, or a
Collection of stones,
A wall, definitely
Something calling me
Home, reliable,
Trustworthy, making
Me melancholic
When in gloaming
I roam, built by
Flesh, by palms
Calloused by hard
Work honed, indeed,
A paean to duty
And everything
Holy like Gibraltar
Pointing its face
Into an Atlantic
Storm, yes, a wall,
A wall of stones
Against which
To lean, recline, and
Dream on a day in
Autumn warm,
A place which has
Withstood Time’s
Passage without
Pause or flinching, a
Monument to
Strength and what
Lies within, a bed
For me to safely sleep,
A womb in which
To rest, a place
For my hat to be
Finally set, and duty’s
Descriptive postcard
With no more to
Be said…except to
Daydream that bays in
The distance a
Long ago dog, and
Then a small child
Runs up to call
Me to supper, just
As sunset starts
To dip in a farewell’s
Beautiful yawn.