Duty
Wagon Wheel
Click for meditationRegarding "Wagon Wheel"
A wagon wheel is faithful,
Always ready to roll…the only time
It stops working is when
It breaks and needs
Fixing, or when it
Is too old to be repaired.
Wagon wheels are
Held in mystical esteem.
Anytime someone drives in a rural
Area, even in an area which
Is no longer rural, it is
Possible to come upon a
Wagon wheel leaning against
A stone wall, a tree,
A barn, or something else.
They are rarely discarded.
They are respected.
Sometimes they are revered.
They are reminders of a
Simpler time of life – hard working
And dutiful. The lupines
In the photograph know what
The old days were like.
They grew then, just
As they also grow now.
Their collective memory
Knows the importance
And meaning of a wagon
Wheel. That is why they stand
In homage around the grey, weathered
Rim and spokes, and listen
To the stories…stories of what the
Wheels and their wagons once did, before
They became tired and broken and
Weathered and…
Leo Carroll
December 13, 2018
At last it has come to rest,
An old wagon wheel weathered, with its
Wizened spokes pointed outward
As if still poised in
Yesteryear’s duty-radius.
No more turns now, no
More thoughts of service, just a green field
Of lupines, to bind its
Wooden wounds in June’s
Glorious fervor.
And so it sits, alone
And at ease until gloaming’s end, alone
Except for lupines, and the
Lavender praise and reverence
Of their hymns.
Colors of Armistice
Click for meditationRegarding "Colors of Armistice"
On a grey and cold November day
In 1929, eighty nine years ago,
My father was working with my
Grandfather cutting firewood in the
Backyard. My father was eight
Years old, and the First World War
Had ended 11 years before.
All of a sudden, the “whistles”
Went off in the town, and
My father was startled. He asked
My grandfather what the
Whistles were for, and my
Grandfather told him that the
“War” had ended at that
Very hour, 11 years before…
My father never forgot
That moment, and every Armistice
Day, or Veterans Day as it is
Now called in the United States,
He would tell me the story.
Fast forward fifty six years later
To 1985, and I was living in Belgium.
It was common in Europe for
People to wear a small red poppy
In their lapel on Armistice Day because of the
Great poem, “In Flanders Fields,” written in 1915
By Canadian Lieutenant Colonel and doctor, John McCrae.
At the time of the poem, beautiful red
Poppies were seen to be growing up out of the
Grasses where dead soldiers were hastily
Buried in Ypres, Belgium. And so my
Memories became even further stirred
On November 11th every year…
Now I will always go out into my garden
On that day, and think of my
Father’s stories, and I will always
Look for a late autumn flower
To symbolize the beautiful red poppy.
This year I saw a pink daisy.
It stood in remembrance as well.
Leo Carroll
November 21, 2018
On this day,
Holy in the fields of
Flanders and
On the lapels o’er
Countless
Hearts,
Bloom
Poppies in the
Sacred
Color of
Vibrant red.
On this same
Day in a
Late autumn
Garden,
Blooms in
Solidarity a pink
Daisy,
Affirming in
Remembrance
There is no
Death…
Ode to Shasta Daisies
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to Shasta Daisies"
As I meander
Along the curves of my
Rock garden’s
Wall, I come
Up’n a flock of
Long-legged shasta
Daisies, which
Ebb and flow like
A cleansing tide with
Whitest foam.
How peaceful they are,
How remarkable
In ability to soothe
The fray, how
Almost ignored,
Because who would
Expect their
Thin stalks to be
Able to bind
What makes afraid!
Leo Carroll
October 23, 2018
I would
Love to sleep
Amongst
You,
My duty
Finally
Come to
Rest,
My covers
Pulled
Up around
Me, and
Your
Wondrous
White
The sentry
I could
Depend.
Snapdragons at First Frost
Click for meditationRegarding "Snapdragons at First Frost"
The snapdragon is my favorite
Flower. It is both fragile
And gentle in appearance, but
Very hardy, lasting even
Into December.
When I saw a bunch of
Magenta-colored
Snapdragons
Brimming with the
Crystals of the
Season’s first frost,
They were surrounded
By bright orange
And yellow marigolds
Posed like sentinels,
Themselves
Maybe the plainest
Of flowers, but
In my mind the most
Consistent and
Reliable…On that
Frosty morning, it seemed
Like Beauty was
Being guarded by
Duty, and Duty was
Being blessed by
Beauty. My mood was
Snatched from
Winter, and made
To contemplate what I
Was meant to see
In autumn.
Leo Carroll
April 26, 2018
They stand so stoically,
Seemingly silent against the cold, but
Warm against my chest they are,
And cradled by loyal marigolds…
They stand resilient, resolute,
As if still residing in kind
Summer, but it is winter
Which lives in my heart, and
I thank Creation for the magenta of
Their autumn saving color.
The Saints
Click for meditationRegarding "The Saints"
Each day, without
Recourse to being able to
Avoid even one tide,
Each and every
Sand grain on the
Beach is washed and
Washed again,
With no expectation
Of reprieve, and
Certainly no reprieve
Received, each
Day, every day,
Bathed by
Incoming and
Outgoing tides,
Like a pilgrim
On a path not
Knowing when
Comes the journey’s
End, just that
Its duty is to feel
The water’s
Surge and in its
Ears to hear
The roar, and that
Someday its
Task will be
Mercilessly done,
When on that
Judgment Day the
Heralds sing.
Leo Carroll
April 30, 2018
When of I think the
Waves which daily
Pound this beaten shore, all the
More I bow before the
Grains of sand,
Which upon Creation’s
Beach put their
Humble backs to each
Tide’s oars.