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So Cold

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Regarding "So Cold"

These two poems are
Simply two instantaneous
Impressions of what an
Old, worn oak leaf lying on a
Winter ground manifested
To me. The oak leaf,
Lying atop snow crystals
And accompanied by a few
Sparse pine needles,
Could potentially convey an
Infinite number of
Possible meanings and
Associations. In theory,
I could write of this
One scene my remaining
Life and never lift the
Lid on all the aspects and
Interpretations.
Everything about us has
Countless takes and
Re-takes as if in a studio
During filming. This is because
Everything is part of
The unknowable mystery
Of Creation, and as the
Lord said in Isaiah,
“For My thoughts are not
Your thoughts, neither are
Your ways My ways.”
Creation’s faces are
Uncountable and ever-
Changing, but unfailingly
Have imprinted on
Them the divine features
Of Love and Beauty,
Together with those of life’s
Every day cares.
Just look into the eyes of
Whatever or whoever
Stares back at you, and you
Will see the light and
Shadows and hurt and
Happiness of the moment.

 

A January Dark

At not more than one
Hour before sunset, begin to
Gather in a circle to
Keep warm an oak leaf, a
Few pine needles, and
Some shivering snow and
Ice crystals, the last
Of the last to head to bed,
Already feeling the
Shadows of tree trunks
Overspreading them,
And knowing soon
Arrives another night
To close the door against
A January dark. Who’d
Have thought they’d be chosen
To spend the long night
Together – a desiccated
Leaf from a mighty
Oak, a few needles from
A towering pine,
And a collection of
Snow crystals by way of
Jacob’s Ladder, which
Had descended the rungs
Like sweet angels,
Couriers of God so the
Leaf and needles
Could softly recline.

Oak Leaf

So cold it could no
Longer hold by its fingertips
The last shivering branch
Of a nearby oak, down
It came – a twisted
Remnant of what it was,
The definitive end to
Autumn’s both anthem
And mayhem, and
With naught to do now
But to flit on frozen
Snow and ice, until again
This spring when the
Six creative days of Genesis
Would be reenacted
And re-begin.

Leo Carroll
January 21, 2022
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Leo Carroll

Night Coming

(Matthew 10:34,39)

As if arising from a
Molten-hot volcano You are,
Heat from heat, flaming
Oranges and pinks
In an unimaginable
Power athwart an early
Night sky – the Word
Become Inferno, to
Sear with a sword and to
Lay waste what still
Slithers the Garden of
Eden outside…

Leo Carroll
January 3, 2022
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Leo Carroll

Eternity’s Sea

Out it froths, as from
An inexhaustible fount of Word,
From a Source far beyond
All creature knowledge, but
Yet a humble foam eager
To greet my footprints
Face to face on the beach,
My steps, those of a pilgrim come
From afar like once did three
Wise visitors from the east,
When the tremendous roar of a
Rushing sea across sand
And stars was heard, and was
Forever altered the countenance
Of God… when it took
On the image of an infant
In a poor stable, and in the
Newborn’s hand was clenched
A sword of straw.

Leo Carroll
December 9, 2021
Plum Island, Massachusetts



Photo by Bernard Carroll

O Maple Tree

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Regarding "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.

Leo Carroll
November 14, 2021
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Leo Carroll

Gifts

Suffering is the yeast
Which brings us to grow spiritually…
And God is the eternal
“I AM WHO I AM,”
During the e’er changing
Nature and faces of
Our pilgrim’s journeying…

Leo Carroll
October 26, 2021
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Pamela Leigh