Gift
Ode to ‘Reading Room’
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to ‘Reading Room’"
How I love my time
Spent in the woods of Maine!
At one point in my life, I went up
There for twenty one straight years every
November, and in all my
Life I have never found a more
Consistently peaceful place to
Contemplate and write. Every sight and
Sound in the woods had
Meaning to me, and I had a
Wide variety of names to refer to
Some of my favorite spots –
For example, the “Reading Room,”
The “Field”, and the “Trap Line” were
Three locations I regularly
Visited. Each had a natural niche
For me to settle into, and to
Wonder and daydream.
I wrote hundreds of poems
While up there. I would just sit in
Silence. The “Reading Room”
Became my best-liked, and
I would often end my day
There as the late afternoon
Light took over the woods.
Invariably at a certain point,
I would hear the melancholic
Barking of a dog coming from
The pasture of a distant, white
Farmhouse. The sound would waft
Across the tops of the trees,
And I would be reminded
Of something in my past which
Was comfortable and I called “home.”
And so, even now when I no longer
Go up to those beloved Maine
Woods, I will daydream
Of the many walks which
I took to find my resting place
In the “Reading Room.”
In the case of the poem for
Which this meditation is
Written, I was daydreaming
One January day of what
The path I walked would look
Like if there were no footprints in
The snow, and if the “Reading Room”
Was all alone watching what
I would have been watching, but
Sadly there was no one there
Now to call the barking
Dog home …
Leo Carroll
February 25, 2019
No footsteps in the snow
Lead up to you today,
No flesh cold sits upon your
Ledge, no mind wanders and then
Wonders at every sight and sound, and no
Melancholy rises up in the throat
When bays a dog across the
Primeval expanse between you
And a lone, white farmhouse –
Which even now from here,
Lo all these hundreds of miles away,
I can still see gleaming like a
Shining beacon across the tree tops
In my daydream’s gaze.
Slate-Colored Juncos
Click for meditationRegarding "Slate-Colored Juncos"
One long ago
Winter day, a mix of
Grey and overcast and my
Mood the same,
I was peering out my
Window at one of my
Rock gardens, and
As I was doing this,
I noticed the barest
Of movement
In the curled-up,
Dormant grass.
I thought at first it
Was a single bird, but I
Soon realized it was
A tiny flock of
Small, blue-grey
Birds, sparrow size
Maybe, but birds
Which I had not
Noticed in my garden
Before. They kept
Inching their
Way closer to my
House, and their heads
Were vigorously
Bobbing as they
Pecked away
At some invisible
Source of nutrient.
Before I knew
It, they reached
The foundation of
My house and were
Right below the very window
I was looking out, and
Finding sustenance,
Where 30 minutes before
I had thought all was
Cold and grey!
Leo Carroll
January 29, 2019
Little blue-grey
Birds inch their way
Towards my house,
Their beaks to the ground,
Their hope to fill
Their mouths.
Their color seems
To be of the sea’s winter
Sheen – cold and
Hard – but I believe
Their tiny beaks feed a
Gentle breed.
The Notebook
Click for meditationRegarding "The Notebook"
The most important thing I do
Every day is to write.
It is my life. It is my balm.
It is peaceful. It is
The one dependable
Action I take which is sure
Any raging waters
To calm. It is a gift to me.
Unmerited. It casts
A fence around me as
If I was reclined in the sweet
Sheepfold of Psalm 23.
It could even be
Viewed as my version
Of the Kingdom of Heaven,
That blessed seed
Bestowed within each of us,
Which has the
Potential to leaven into
A majestic, flowering tree.
Leo Carroll
October 2, 2018
Would this notebook
Be able to keep me afloat in
A raging sea, its paper,
Once wood, a life
Preserver’s giving me
Buoyancy, or,
Would last sight of
Me be with an arm
Raised high, notebook
Held up to the last,
And then down,
Down deep, gone,
Below the waves and
Into the vast…?
Daydream
Click for meditationRegarding "Daydream"
One day I had a
Daydream about a small, glass
Milk bottle being placed
Against my front door,
And within it was the lone stalk
Of a flower, cocked
At a casual angle,
Simply done, but
Wonderful and welcome.
I’ve often wondered
Who placed that
Flower in a bottle?
It was such a generous
And kind thing to do,
Even if it was an invention
Of my mind, and the
Intent was only to lift my
Fictional mood…
Leo Carroll
August 12, 2018
A flower once
Stood at the outside of
My doorway, a
Lone stalk cocked
At an angle
In a simple glass
Bottle.
Who picked this
Flower and with care
Placed it there?
That remains known
To only the
Flower in the
Bottle…
Cabin in the Woods
Click for meditationRegarding "Cabin in the Woods"
I was up in the
Maine woods one year with
A group of some friends.
We were there for the
Week in an old,
Historical hunting cabin.
One afternoon,
Most everyone had
Found their spot
Out beneath some tree
Or along a stone
Wall, but for me — my
Day had ended,
And I was sitting in the
Cabin with just
One other friend,
A dear friend, an old
Friend, a long-time,
Dependable friend, the
Best kind of friend,
And we were talking
Over a glass of red wine.
As the afternoon reached its
Zenith and final light,
An absolutely peaceful,
Melancholic
Warmth settled in
Upon the cabin, and
I realized how
Sometime soon
We would ourselves
Become merged
With the woods in a
Final accounting
Of all things created…
I always cherish that
Singular moment, that light —
And, particularly, that
Friendship to
Share in it.
Leo Carroll
May 11, 2018
Gradually
Settles up’n the
Cabin an autumn spell of
End-of-afternoon, fading light,
Golden in its hue, and
Melancholic in the
Warmth and glow it casts,
And a reminder, also,
That we are caretakers of
This place in time, and
Like the ghosts that once sat these
Self-same chairs in the
Womb of these old walls,
We, too, will someday share
With the woods the
Coming final sunset and
Descending night.