Birds
Silence
Click for meditationRegarding "Silence"
So rare is silence…
It’s almost as if we are afraid
Of it, and run from it,
Preferring the comfort of
Being around noise,
Rather than to have to think,
To have to consider who
We really are and the
Purpose of our existence in a
Universe too immense
And chaotic to understand.
There is a saying,
“God is in the silence.”
It speaks of the precious,
Divine nature of silence and
Its ability to heal and foster prayer.
In the Gospels, Jesus would
Always seek a quiet place to pray.
In the minds of Believers,
Yahweh was able to be
Heard above the roar of the
Big Bang in Genesis, such was the
Greatness of His almighty
Voice! Yet lo billions of
Years later, as galaxies still
Scream outward and expand the
Boundaries of the Universe,
God can be found meekly
In the sights and sounds of all
That composes His Creation,
Such as the birds of the air,
The grasses in the wind,
The gurgle of streams, and all
Else patiently calling us to
A state of calm and
Peace within. Silence is
So quiet, but yet is so
Profound, that its presence
Can supersede the din
That all human minds
And mouths can pour into
A dry fountain. When I
Was recently in Maine, the
Silence re-awakened
Some musings which I
Always associate and find
Poignant with my visits to Maine.
The same silence, however,
Also brought assurance
In the wizened croaks of a raven –
And I knew God in mystery
And mercy was present in my
Moods! In short, silence
Can not only evoke or activate a
Wellspring of feelings that
Noise would mask, but silence
Can also teach us that in
The crosscurrents of the Universe
The Omniscient presence
Of God (“I Am”) can assuage any
Desert loneliness running
Wild in the swirling sands.
Leo Carroll
August 25, 2020
Mood
“O, I am so missing you,”
I muse, sighing inaudibly while
Contemplating a solitary
Spruce through the window
Of my mood. “How can you be the
Other side of this glass,
Here now, here last year, and
Next if I so last…?”
Leo Carroll
August 17, 2020
Bristol, Maine
Finding
God can be found
In the silence, in the voices of the
Grasses and the birds and
The wind… gone now are His
Booming chords of First Day,
When ’twas necessary to shout
Above the cacophony of the roar and
The blast with, “Amen!”
Leo Carroll
August 18, 2020
Bristol, Maine
Saying Goodbye
A raven bugles in two,
Maybe three quick croaks…
While reverently stands
Ramrod-straight a little spruce, its
Duty to listen, as if no
Oth’r ears were interested
Enough to be open…
Leo Carroll
August 23, 2020
Bristol, Maine
Robin’s Leaf
Click for meditationRegarding "Robin’s Leaf"
I am always amazed
By the seemingly little things
Occurring in creation!
I am usually caught off
Guard by them because of being
Absorbed in my own life…
But in this poem, a robin reminds
Me of nature’s nuances!
Recently, my car was
Parked under the shade of a
Small cherry tree, and
As I walked towards it to
Open the driver’s side door,
There was a tremendous
Rush of commotion
Above me as a robin bolted
From out the midst of
The tree! I had disturbed it,
And it let me know
As it flew away, upset
And squawking…
So quick was its departure
From the tree that it
Dislodged a leaf near where
It had been perched.
So as I stared after and
Tried to follow the
Robin’s flight, the little
Leaf was the only witness left
Behind…! And then in
Realization it came to me that
The leaf had spent its
Whole life waiting to be
The robin’s companion in
The cherry tree, and in
A simple wink of time I had
Eviscerated its interlude
Of accomplishment
And peace…leaving the
Little leaf to float by me to the
Ground, and the robin,
Safely ensconced somewhere
Close by, mourning the leaf now
Splayed at my feet…
Leo Carroll
July 13, 2020
Startling me as much
As I startled it, a robin bursts from
A wee cherry tree, and with its
Fleeing voice delivers me a
Stark missive…tempered, that is,
By the flight of a slowly
Floating cherry leaf, its preciousness
Dislodged when the avian
Abruptly abandoned its Sunday
Morning seat!
Morrill
Click for meditationRegarding "Morrill"
Every autumn for 21 years,
I went up to a cabin in the woods of
Morrill, Maine. It was a wonderful
Experience which I will never
Forget, and it is where I wrote scores
And scores of some of my
Favorite poetry. Seven years ago I
Took a sabbatical from going up,
But every fall I continued to
Feel the pull of the spiritual
Silence and majesty of those Maine
Woods. This autumn, after
My seven year hiatus, I
Returned for several nights
To those woods. It seemed a little
Strange for me, because
Although the woods appeared
Essentially the same, they
Did appear to have changed in
Subtle ways. It is hard
To explain. The more I have
Thought about this,
Though, the more I have
Come to realize that the true
Changes and differences
Were with me, and not the
Woods, and this is the theme of
All the poetry I wrote
While I was just up there. The
Poems try to put their
Finger on “something,” and the
“Something” is that the
Twenty one straight years
Were a distinct, unique period
In time, and performed a
Specific role in my life’s
Journey, and thus, when the
Woods and I saw each
Other again, we each took a
“Double-take” at each
Other – in pause and in
Shock – and I realized the truth
Of Thomas Wolfe’s saying,
“You can’t go home again,” and
Find either home and/or
Yourself the way things
Once were…
Leo Carroll
December 2, 2019
Ode to Morrill
You watch, waiting in
Silence, as if expecting I might
Have something to say, while I, in turn,
Watch you, thinking your
Branches to be both changed
And unchanged, your faces the same
Tho’ not the same…
Woods
Gray came up’n me,
Cold whipped the trunks of my soul,
Wind beat about me, and the
Woods whispered that “old” had crept
Into my snowy bones.
Moment
Still no movement, silence
Has even stopped…branches which are
Bent remain bent…branches
Which are straight guide my gaze
To their tops…
But then something flies
Chirping, and I would describe it if I
Could, but its feathers are
Too far away, and so I resume my
Autumn mood…
O, Angel of God
“O, Angel of God, my guardian dear…,”
And thus I begin my catechism’s
Childhood prayer, and then
In the silence, a distinct silence
Cold and white, a chorus rises up,
And chickadees alight…
Calling Out
“Where are you, Memory,
Where can I find you in the midst
Of this snowy field lying in
My mind and up’n this ground…?
Everything looks the same,
But my mind tells me
Something has changed…!”
Requiem
I returned to these woods to
Re-walk and live my old memories, and
Found some of them moved and
Wondered to where they
Might be keeping…?
And so I mused aloud,
“Is there not anything here
I can depend?!”
And then all my old
Haunts and shadows looked
O’er at me, and I knew
I had crossed the
Threshold to an e’er
Approaching requiem.
Spring Cleaning
Click for meditationRegarding "Spring Cleaning"
Birds are so faithful,
And in my opinion are
Attuned to the emotions of people
They encounter. The chirp
Of a bird can be so uplifting and
Mood-changing, and
Seems to come at the
Most opportune
Of times. I believe
Birds can “sense” our
Minds and emotions, and
Can be “there” when we need
Someone or something
To be “there!” So
Often I have been
Stunned by the ministry
And blessings of birds.
Chickadees, in
Particular, are good
Examples of this. They
Are tiny, but their
Hearts are so large!
Once on a cold and raw,
Autumn day in New
Hampshire, I was standing
Beneath a very large pine in the
Woods and watching a
Flock of chickadees about
Fifty feet in front of
Me. Over a course of
Several minutes, they kept
Inching their way
Towards me, hopping
From branch to branch,
Until finally they
Were about five feet in
Front of my face…
Then, they all rose up with
A rush, with the feathers
Of one of them brushing my
Right cheek! What an
Expression of love that was,
What tenderness, what
A wonderful way to be
Touched by the wings of God!
And thus also this
Past spring, when I was
Doing cleanup in my
Garden after the snow and
Wind of winter, I was standing
In a bunch of leaves with
My rake when I heard a
Flurry of activity around me,
And I realized it was the
Love of chickadees
Returned to me again, as
They flapped their
Wings about my feet,
And anointed me with
Maple leaves fluffed
About my boots without
My even asking …
Leo Carroll
October 1, 2019
A rustle in the leaves —
Surrounding and about my feet — and
Each maple leaf moves as
If fluffed by the wind,
But lo, ’twas not
A zephyr, but a gust of
Chickadees alighting like an
Angelic hymn!
Love
Click for meditationRegarding "Love"
I was recently sitting
In a waiting room in Stoneham and
Listening for my name to be
Called for my ophthalmology
Examination. It is still not clear to
Me what happened next,
But I sensed someone was
Standing in front of me and
Staring at me. I raised
My head slowly to look up,
And there was this little
Boy, perhaps six or seven years
Old, and he had a smile
On his face. As soon as our
Eyes connected, he said
Something quickly to me which
Came out in a burst, like a
Digital stream of binary
Information. I could not
Understand a word of it,
But whatever he said, it was
Obviously important to him from
His facial earnestness looking at me.
Before I had a chance to
Respond, however, a young woman
Quietly appeared beside him,
Gently took his hand,
And as she started to
Turn to lead him back to a
Chair in the waiting room,
She gave me a knowing nod,
As if to convey she knew
That for a few seconds
Her son and I had connected in a
Mysterious, spiritual bond.
Leo Carroll
February 20, 2019
I feel his presence before
I see him, a young boy perhaps six
Years old who now stands several feet
In front of me, almost as if an
Apparition he so suddenly appears,
Like a rush of wind and then the
Paraclete’s breath upon my face,
And he smiles but his attempt
To speak is garbled and unintelligible —
At least in a worldly way that I can
Understand — and then his mother
Walks up softly and takes hold his hand,
And gently leads him away to
A seat in the waiting room’s
Sheepfold … while I in my
Chair am left wondering in
Awe of the message spoken by his
Incomprehensible words, and
Why he had picked me to be
Culled from out of the herd to
Hear his vocal cords struggle
In stanza and verse?