Hope
In Thanksgiving
And so this rose
Is offered thee at the behest of
The night’s mood.
It has arrived from a
Distant winter’s clime, where
Despite frost and tundra,
It has at the touch of
Truth bloomed.
Ode to the Bearer of the Holy Spirit
The candle you
Hold is faithful, its light immune
To being dimmed.
Awash I am
This desert night,
But from afar appears
Your face,
Carrying in your
Caress the eternal
Antidote to
My flesh’s whims.
Ode to a Ginkgo’s Leaves
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to a Ginkgo’s Leaves"
The ginkgo tree is originally a
Native to China, and fossils of this tree,
Very similar to the present living
Species, go at least as far back
As 170 million years. To say, therefore,
That the ginkgo is hardy is
An understatement! In fact,
The gingko has even
Proven resistant to the
Atomic bomb! On August 6, 1945,
The United States dropped
An atomic bomb on
Hiroshima, Japan. There
Were six ginkgo trees near the
Blast center, and they are
Still alive today! Because of their
Resilience, the ginkgo has
Become known as
The “Bearer of Hope.”
And so when I was in
Sammamish, Washington
Recently, and was watching
My granddaughter
Perform some lacrosse
Drills outside a local school,
I noticed that the
Landscaping included some
Small-to-medium sized
Ginkgo trees. . . I immediately
Went over and stood
Amongst them, and let their
Ancient, fan-shaped leaves dwell
Upon my shoulders.
It was like a spiritual
Moment, and I felt their
Healing grace at once. It was as if
I had been a bystander in
Jerusalem 2000 years
Ago when Jesus entered the
City on a donkey, and
His followers laid palms
Along the route of His travel.
Such is the holiness of
The ginkgo that, in my opinion, its
Golden leaves could have
Equally served to cradle and give
Reverence to the
Footsteps of Jesus.
Believing is seeing, and
The light of hope
Is everywhere. That is
What the message of this
Poem Is about.
Leo Carroll
December 12, 2022
O yellow, sometimes e’en
Gold, but with a tinge of slightest green,
Undulating before my gaze,
Each leaf changing
As the sun o’er my shoulder
Leans, o you, dear leaves, doth arrest
Me in my tracks, because
There is something
About your countenance,
Which makes me believe you once
Cradled my Savior’s
Shadow as He walked past.
“Again I tell you: it is much harder
For a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God
Than for a camel to go through
The eye of a needle. . . ”
Matthew 19:24
At Heaven’s Gate
At last I am at the outskirts of
Heaven’s gate, and all remaining for me
Is to cross o’er this narrow,
Tremulous bridge, this bridge of
Terrifying choice – whether, in faith,
To God’s will to totally submit,
Or to throw chaff wildly
Into the wind, and, like a camel, to
Try to thread the eye of a
Needle, in the reckless hope of
Receiving forgiveness from the fingers
Of Mercy’s Seamstress. . .
“If you only knew what God gives. . .
You would ask Him and He
Would give you living water. . .”
John 4: 10
Transiting Montana
Enroute from Judea to Galilee
And so beneath a billowing
Montana blue sky,
Jesus momentarily paused
Along an aquamarine
Riverbank to rest and recline. . .
When approached Him
A burdened Samaritan
Woman carrying an empty
Jar brimming with the
Bleakness of her despair. . .
And He called out,
“Daughter, it is no longer
Necessary to cloak
Your heart in such a hardened
Disguise, but to drink
You, instead, these living
Waters, and your name will
Be washed, and your
Thirst eternally satisfied.”