Creation
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…
Paean
Click for meditationRegarding "Paean"
There is something
About the color yellow which
I find particularly
Warming, whether it
Appears on yellow maple
Leaves in autumn, or
On buttery-yellow marigolds
Or snapdragons or
Day lilies in summer. This
Poem is about when
I saw a magnificent,
Yellow-leafed maple tree,
Its leaves as if they
Adorned the throne of
Creation, and their hue as if
Personally applied
By watercolors from
The sun. And I saw this
Tree with its golden
Leaves while driving in
A suburban setting in
Needham, Massachusetts!
If I had seen such a
Tree and its leaves in
The woods of Maine or
New Hampshire, I
Would not have been as
Surprised, although I
Would have felt equally
Gifted, but I saw
These leaves when and
Where I did not expect — as
Always, Mother Nature
Caught me off guard,
And spoke to me when
My heart needed it,
And when the scales from my
Eyes were removed to
Reveal the magnitude of
The stunning message.
Leo Carroll
May 16, 2018
O, yellow leaves,
Gentle as balm,
Resting in God’s sunlight,
So soft to me,
So holy to me,
Only the wind knows
Your delight.
O, yellow leaves,
Simple and pure,
Faithful like a friend,
Beckoning all,
Proclaiming fall,
Even aft you drop, still
My godsend.