A Woman’s Loon
A loon, appearing at first
To be injured, flopping awkwardly
In a repetitive motion to
Move. . . thankfully caught
By the camera’s eye
Of a woman, who was
Searching for what she searches
On each new tidal pull of the
Moon. . . and lo’ the loon – ’twas in
Actuality fine and not hurt –
Just preening its wings
Before liftoff to
Heaven, having received
Its final blessing on sands writ
In God’s Holy Word.
Stone Angels
Click for meditationRegarding "Stone Angels"
Recently, I was asked
To write a poem which had to
Include ten random words
Given to me. I normally would
Never have considered
Anything like that, but this
Request was part of an exercise in
A training session I was
Taking. And so I consented!
The words given me were,
“Trickle,” “alone,” “gently,”
“Mirrored,” “playfully,”
“Sleeping,” “dignified,” “healing,”
“Sacredness,” and “doors.”
As I was reflecting on
These ten words, I penned
Almost absentmindedly
What would turn out to be
The opening verse of the poem,
“Stone Angels.” With that
One verse, I knew instinctively I
Could complete the poem!
And so thus it unfolded
As naturally as stream
Waters polishing stones!
Each word, in fact, a stone!
Looking back at the
Genesis of this writing
Project and the resulting
Poem, I have no doubt
The muse or, better said, the
Holy Spirit as the muse,
Was the initiator. Because
When I first saw the poem on
My computer screen, I
Sensed it felt like the work of
A Higher Power. Not only
Did the ten words flow easily and
Unimpeded, but all the
Other words in the poem
Did as well, all fitting
Comfortably together
Like stones in a stream bed,
And touching something
Deep and very dear inside me…
Something looking for an
Outlet, an expression, an
Explanation, an understanding of
The confluence of my life –
Its purpose, its finish,
Something which spoke of
Hope and eternal rest
At the end of my path.
The ten words given to me
Are as if tumbled or
Smoothed by the running
Waters of the accompanying
Photograph, and the
Entire visual layout of the
Poem reflects their encoded
Place in Creation’s eternal
Stream bed, and is a
Metaphor for God’s mercy,
Even when the siren
Call of duty seemed to have
Randomly cast its net
And ensnared me all alone.
Leo Carroll
May 8, 2022
I first hear the trickle of
The brook long before I am able
To see it, swaddled as I
Am in this womb of beautiful
Autumn aspens, dreamily
Hiking towards a vale
I have never visited before,
But now from the murmur of the
Brook knowing my arrival
Is at hand. I listen to the
Brook running over stones,
Gently, almost playfully, but in a
Manner respecting their
Dignified demeanor and
Sacredness, because these
Stones once hung dutifully as
Guardian angels over the
Doors to the hearts of humans,
And are now themselves
Laid at rest in these loving
Waters – waters where they, too,
Can recline and experience
Healing and protection,
Comforted by the harmony of
Being with other similar
Stones, all of whom now
Gazing blissfully into each
Other’s faces as if cuddling or
Sleeping, and realizing in
This cemetery of mirrored
Reflections that they did not live
All these eons alone…
Matthew 7: 13-14
“Halt, who goes there!?”
“It is I, a simple pilgrim!”
“State your business!”
“I am lost. I am looking for my
Lord and Savior.”
Matthew 5:5
("Happy Are the Meek")
Click for meditationRegarding "Matthew 5:5"
So much beauty in
Life is hidden, known only in
Its existence by the
Creator. It is often that
This beauty is the most humble
And self-effacing, for fear
It is not really beautiful, at
Least as far as the superficiality
Of the world judges…
Some beauty prefers not
To draw attention to itself.
It was in this context
That I stumbled upon an
Absolutely stunning
Crocus in my garden as I
Was crawling on my
Hands and knees.
It was almost completely
Under a bush, and I
Have no recollection of
Its being there in
Years past. It seemed
To almost recoil from
Me in shyness, thinking
Itself unworthy in
My gaze, giving me the
Feeling it just wanted to blend
Into the background,
And let daffodil, tulip, and
Iris get all the applause
Come what may…
Leo Carroll
April 10, 2022
Beneath a bush and
Hidden in winter’s lingering shadow,
A crocus looks up surprised…
For I had just caught
Its beauty off guard, when
It thought itself alone
In the chill of the garden
It resided! Its petals
Almost pleaded with me,
“Wherefore emanates
Your interest!? Other spring
Blooms will soon appear,
More pleasing to your palette
Like sweetest daffodil,
Tulip, and iris…”
Swans
Click for meditationRegarding "Swans"
There is a small body of water
In Melrose, Massachusetts.
It is called, “Ell Pond,” and is a
Well-known landmark
In the heart of town.
It originally got its name
Because its configuration was
Shaped like the letter, “L.”
Whenever I drive past, I
Invariably see people
On benches gazing
Peacefully out upon the
Water. My mother,
Now age 100, used to
Swim there as a young girl
About age 12, and even
Now fondly recalls
Doing handstands in the
Water with her girlfriends!
They would get to the
Beach early so they would
Not have to pay an entrance fee!
And over the past several
Decades, Ell Pond has
Woven itself into the lives
Of one of my sisters
And her daughter, as they
Have faithfully tracked
The wildlife comings
And goings on the pond,
Particularly those of the white
Swans which have
Exquisite beauty.
On Ell Pond today there
Are two swans, one named,
“Mel,” and the other, “Rose,”
Obviously after the town
In which they reside!
From time to time, Mel and
Rose have been featured
In local news media, and are
Very well known in the
Community. In the
Mythical poem associated
With this meditation,
The female swan, “Rose,”
Comes upon a little
Secluded section of woods
Bordering the water,
And awaits the love of
Her life, “Mel,” to arrive.
She is going to meet
Him for the first time, and
She demurely and shyly
Holds her breath,
Not knowing if he would
Come by coach or
Glide by in disguise!
Leo Carroll
May 1, 2022
Somewhere, in a
Secluded pond in the little
Land of Ell, a female
Swan named, “Rose,”
Demurely inches
Closer to a copse
Along the shoreline’s
Edge, hoping to catch her
First glimpse of her
Darling Prince Charming,
But knowing naught
About him – except his
Feathers were also
Exquisitely white, and his
Name when quacked
Sounded deliciously
Like “Mel…”