Beauty
O Maple Tree
Click for meditationRegarding "O Maple Tree"
Every year I am
Susceptible to the whims of
Autumnal melancholy. Whether it
Is due to the falling leaves
Delivering an emphatic
Message of earthly
Impermanence, and
Rekindling within me the
Furies of things I would re-do
Differently, or the
Good things I have
Known and are now no
More, or something else…
But in its final gasps of
Change, fall is spectacularly
Beautiful and comforting – – setting an
Unmatchable standard of self
Sacrifice and duty, right
Up to the last leaves to fall and
The final glimpses of their
Wonderful, fading glory,
Particularly if I had kneeled
Down over them and
Was marveling how their
Plentitude must rival
The stunning miracle of the
Loaves and fishes as
They once laid multiplied
And displayed near the
Sea of Galilee.
Leo Carroll
November 21, 2021
O maple tree, your
Leaves lie crinkled beneath
My knees, but their
Yellow tatters still speak
In little whispers
Of warmth and love,
The kind that autumn
Spawns, tho’ it be “change”
In its goodbye hug.
Daisies
Click for meditationRegarding "Daisies"
Every fall, every late fall,
I always marvel how certain flowers can
Survive until the very last moment,
And still continue to show their beauty.
But unlike in the spring and
Summer, I have to search to locate
Their faces, and I invariably
Find them almost hidden
By the mushrooming debris
In a garden otherwise fastidiously
Manicured in spring, summer,
And early fall. But by late fall they are
Like a gem found in the middle
Of chaos (leaves of all sorts, twigs,
Branches, pine cones), or a
Lamp uncovered from the burden of
A dark shade, in short, a simple,
Loyal, floral planting saying
‘Thank you’ for all the months of
Cultivation – when their chance to
Repay comes with only days
Before they, too, go away.
Leo Carroll
November 27, 2021
Can two beating hearts
Make it through the coming winter?
Cuddled and close they are,
As if autumn would always linger…
But can they find safe refuge,
And can the surrounding
Oak leaves continue to protect?
Because what happens
When December comes, and
Their love is shivering —
Will they have any regret?
Chipmunk
Click for meditationRegarding "Chipmunk"
And so I saw a summer
Chipmunk – standing on its hind legs
Like it was part of the Lewis
And Clark Expedition and
Staring in awe at what is now
Called Yellowstone Park!
It stood as tall as it absolutely
Could, ramrod straight,
And was perfectly still lest it
Disturb a single blade
Of grass on the infinite plain
Before it…So engrossed
It seemed in ‘something,’
Fascinated, mesmerized, that
It dared almost not to
Breathe…and then
It relented, its chest relaxing,
And it moved serenely
Into my flower bed –
A mere ten feet away –
Its answer to the meaning of
Existence contained in
What a lemon-yellow daylily
On its face had to say.
Leo Carroll
September 25, 2021
Up’n its hind legs,
Stretching its tendons to almost
Breaking while peering o’er
The summer grass, a
Chipmunk surveils the vast,
Unlimited prairie
Before its gaze, perhaps
Looking for love or food or
Danger or something
I can imagine not,
But all it sees is a
Thursday morning –
Dawned like all others –
Except that for a
Few seconds I captured
Its contemplation
Of the universe’s infinite
Landscape…until it
Settled on my garden a
Mere ten feet away, and knew
It was seeing whate’er
It would e’er need
To see…or e’er hope for
In answered prayer.
Plumeria
Click for meditationRegarding "Plumeria"
There is an enclave in
Secunderabad, India, in the
Indian state of Telangana, where
A woman faithfully tends
Her simple, but astounding
Garden. There is an
Aspect to her work which
May be in remembrance of her
Father, a long-serving, decorated
Senior officer and doctor in
The Indian Army, who
Was also, himself, a devoted
Gardener. Although I have
Never visited this garden,
I liken the garden to a
Mythical haven for pilgrims
Aspiring to reach a higher
Indian plane. It is a floral
Masterpiece of beauty, and is a
Soothing sanctuary from
The snares and toils
Of daily life. And most
Importantly, it could be
Thought of as a bulwark and
Respite against evil,
Particularly the worldwide
Evil of the Covid virus
Which is rampaging within
India this very hour.
In this garden is the sweet,
White plumeria flower,
Which emits a fragrance
Impervious to this evil – and
Its self-effacing meekness
And innocence are what make it
So wondrous! Indeed, in
Some regions of India, the plumeria
Is considered a sacred flower,
And is believed to reside
At the highest level of heaven,
Home to the Hindu god,
Sri Krishna. In that context,
The plumeria’s perfume
Could be thought of as a
Natural antidote to anything
Which would want to do harm…
And its wafting scent also
A tribute to the dignity
Of the woman who planted
It and who tends it so lovingly — as
Would likewise her father in
The shadows, and for India
Still on guard…
Leo Carroll
May 6, 2021
What sacred grace, what
Staunchness, standing like it is
At the ramparts of heaven’s
Gate, the sweet face of plumeria,
Granting entrance to only
The meek and humble
Of heart, because each petal
Softens the arrogance of
Any other dreaded weight or
Earthly power…O’ champak,
As you are also called,
The palace guard perfumed
To all swaddled within
Your kingdom’s walls…
And to even contemplate how
You can so indomitably
Bloom – and not one
Of your five white petals
Flinches, no matter the
Covid fever which ravages
Within India’s bosom…!
Cold Moon
("Love")
Click for meditationRegarding "Cold Moon"
A December full moon
Is referred to as a
“Cold Moon.” It can also
Be called the “Long Night Moon,”
Because it occurs so close
To the winter solstice, and is
Associated with the
Longest night of the year.
If the skies are clear,
It can be an absolutely
Beautiful sight,
Bright white-yellow
In color. And it was on such
A clear night when I
Happened to open
My front door and stick
My head outside to
Take a deep breath of fresh
Air, and I saw it – a
Beautiful orb in the night
Blackness, and
Peering down at me
Through branches almost
Bare of their big,
Pie-plate sized oak leaves.
I stepped out the door
Onto my front walkway and
Just peered up at it,
Amazed that such a spectacle
Could ever exist…and
Particularly just for me!
And then I remembered that
This was not the first
Time I had stared up in a
Mesmerized fashion
At a Cold Moon! It had
Happened years and years
Before as well, and under that
Long ago sky with such
A marvelous moon, I had
Whispered about
Something that only
The Cold Moon heard…
And which memory of e’en
Now can still cast me
Into a December swoon…
Leo Carroll
March 15, 2021
A cold moon, really cold
In its name and the
Gleam of its Decemb’r bloom,
Shining through branches
Of barren oak, the
Same oak tree which
Years ago listened…when
I whispered of something I’d
Ne’er before of
Spoke…