Pausing
Click for meditationRegarding "Pausing"
The woods can assume in
Posture both what comforts us and
What we fear, sometimes
All at the same time,
Sometimes in whipsawing
Twists and turns, sometimes in
Primeval verse and rhyme,
Sometimes in light and dark hues,
And sometimes in strange
Rustlings and shapes at night.
The woods can be like a
Chameleon, both
Invoking wonder and
Awe, and just as easily
Placing us at a cave mouth,
Where terror howls in the wind,
And where in the bend of the
Spruce — there is wild
Pitch and yaw…
Leo Carroll
June 6, 2018
Ah, yet still to cross…
A stone wall
I can crawl over,
But before doing so
In homage must
Pause, and
Then into the
Timbers, where dark
Are the spruce,
And then an even
Darker opening
Through the
Wood, where
The primeval forest
Greets me in
My mood.
Almost
Click for meditationRegarding "Almost"
Someday
I’ll walk through
That thicket,
Someday, when
My time has
Come, and I’ve
Taken my
Last compass
Reading along
A stone wall
Where I am welcome.
Ah, to enter…
I think I will know
The time when to take
That final step…
I’ll just merge with
The overcast
Of the day,
And step through
Into another
Wood, and it
Will look exactly
Like this wood,
The same,
Except on the
Other side I will
Know of the
People I meet — far
More names.
Leo Carroll
June 4, 2018
Never could be
Found me,
If I truly
Wanted to
Quietly
Disappear
Into this
Maine
Thicket.
Just a few
Further steps
And I would
Be gone,
As if I passed
Through a
Veil’s
Smoky
Mirror, and
Last seen
Of me was
Only a fading
Wisp.
Choosing Heaven
Click for meditationRegarding "Choosing Heaven"
In the woods of
Maine, no matter which
Way I walked, even
If I went in the
Wrong direction and
Somehow got
“Turned around” and
Was temporarily
Lost, I always
Was on the path to
Heaven, because
Any spot in
Those pristine
Woods was as if
Peering into the looking
Glass at all the
Ramparts of
The Almighty’s
Palace on the
Glistening heights of
Caesarea…
Thus tries to
Speak this poem…
To the left —
If I wandered
Into a
Prototypical
Maine field — it
Was as if I
Had come before
The font of
All wisdom
And understanding.
If I walked down
The path to
The right — my
Spirit was blessed
With all the
Hues of autumn, as if
Sprinkled from
Creation’s fingers.
Leo Carroll
June 3, 2018
In which
Direction should I
Choose to go,
As I muse
The best path
In my pilgrim’s walk
To follow…?
To the left
Leads me into
A glorious meadow
Of milkweed
And its pod,
While to
The right
Meanders a
Rough-hewn
Road,
Where a
Canopy of
Golden
Shade and
Shadow awaits to
Clothe me
In the hues I
Long…
The Field
Click for meditationRegarding "The Field"
I was once given a gift,
A gift shown to me by a friend,
A gift beyond words to ever adequately
Describe, and a gift
Surpassing all measure and
Human treasure.
It was a place in the
Middle of the Maine woods,
Secluded, a field, a golden field,
Surrounded by old stone
Walls, inhabited by
Everything good that
Could ever be said
About the purity and
Hardscrabble spirit of Maine,
And it was in that field I learned
I could rest in solitude
Amongst the milkweed pod, and
Could recline in ease and
Peace with my name.
Leo Carroll
April 24, 2018
I stepped into a Maine-filled field,
Breathed its life and felt its feel,
When then I spied the milkweed pod, and
Mused they lined the path to God…
So amongst the pod I reclined myself, and
Spread my cares before that land devout. When
Then replied from a treetop far, crow’s
Answering call in knowing “caw.”
Autumnal Remembrance
Click for meditationRegarding "Autumnal Remembrance"
Autumn is a metaphor for
Endings and things
About to change. It is a time of
Great color, great beauty,
But change is definitely in the
Air, and everyone and
Everything knows it.
All Creation knows it, and it
Plays out in the life of
Every living thing. It is a
Season of soul-searching and
Introspection, melancholy
And feelings of loss – missed
Opportunities and
What-ifs, and on and on…
All this, though, silhouetted and
Accompanied by the
Wondrous majesty of
Nature as it peaks — and
Literally right before it falls…
In my mind, all other
Seasons pale in the
Shadow of autumn, and
It is in autumn when we get
The opportunity to
Re-evaluate our pilgrim’s
Path – and to somehow
Keep hope alive, because the
People upon whose shoulders we
Have stood are still with
Us in spirit, speaking to us
Through the things that they
Liked the most about autumn – geese
Passing overhead, yellow
Maple leaves dancing
In the breeze, the stunning
Purity of first frost on the
Petals of snapdragons…
Leo Carroll
May 20, 2018
When you hear the geese move overhead,
When you feel the wind rustle in the trees,
When you see the leaves begin to fall,
Please think of me, and I will be there.
When you smell the cool in autumn’s air,
When the sun bathes you in fading warmth,
When the flowers crowd for one last night,
Please think of me, and I will be there.
When dusk is early and morning late,
When frost touches dawn before it awakes,
When the grass curls for a season’s sleep,
Please think of me, and I will be there.
When fall becomes your season’s mate,
When you’ve aged and begin to contemplate,
When you wonder about all you’ve been…
Please think of me, and I will be there.