Leaves
Heaven’s Green
Click for meditationRegarding "Heaven’s Green"
What
Kind of green
Is this upon which I look?
It stops me in
My tracks, and over
It in marvel and
Awe I stoop! An
Unbelievable
Green it is, just fallen
From a tree, not
Wanting to wait for
Autumn, but
Content to let go
Under the yoke of
Dewdrops –
Almost too
Invisible to be
Seen…
Leo Carroll
June 21, 2018
…Perfectly placed,
As if lying in waiting as an
Offering of grace, a
Maple leaf fallen,
With droplets of dew in
Beads on its face.
O, maple leaf,
What could’ve made
You this morn
To alight upon this
Sweet grass?
Did you consider
Waiting until
Autumn, when
Your October colors
Would’ve been
At their max?
Or, was it you
Preferred to release
Your green now,
And thus be
Remembered
For an early summer
Peek at a leaf by
Spring crowned?
Being
Click for meditationRegarding "Being"
I am coming
To realize that in this
Wood I am seeing my reflection,
Everywhere, in the form
Of leaves and trees
And inaudible
Whisperings, animate
And inanimate, in God’s
Image, all things
And me, beauty
Surrounded by beauty,
Change surrounded by change,
Life and death
In tandem, and seen
E’en in the faces of
Brittle hues on mottled,
Genuflected, leafy
Knees…
Leo Carroll
August 7, 2019
So here I am,
Where immersed in this
Grove of almighty
Pines and beech I sit,
Peaceful, as long as lasts the
Glory of this instant…
In sync I am, and putting up
No resistance like
Autumn leaves – simply
A pilgrim on the path
To crinkled dust, and
Carried by the wind on
The carpet of
Creation’s love…
Snow-Cold Silence
Click for meditationRegarding "Snow-Cold Silence"
How
Crystal-perfect
Was that moment, as if time and the
Woods and all other
Things seemed to stand
Completely still,
Nothing moving, nothing
Stirring, utter quiet
Both within me
And outside of me,
And all while I inhaled
Snow-cold air,
An air telling me
Flakes were poised
To fall upon a
Landscape waiting,
Poised to be sipped like
Finest wine poured
From a golden
Goblet called late
Autumn in New
Hampshire.
Leo Carroll
July 30, 2019
Over me
Spreads an
Imperceptible
Yoke of
Silence,
Pushing shut
My eyes,
Despite all
My resistance
To being
Pious…
Nothing is
Moving now,
Not even an eyelash
Nor a leaf, not
Even sound, not
Even color,
Not even what
I believe…
Nothing is
Moving, as
Creation pauses
Before
Loosing the
First flake from
November’s
Heaven,
And between
Now and
Then, in
Awe asleep I
Am sent…
“For When I Am Weak, Then I Am Strong”
(2 Corinthians 12: 9-10)
Click for meditationRegarding "“For When I Am Weak, Then I Am Strong”"
When I was sitting
And daydreaming in the
Middle of an autumn
Array of trees and color –
Marveling at the
Power and Greatness
Which created all
Things before my gaze –
Two oak leaves
Tumbled across the
Ground and came
To rest at the
Sole of my boots.
It was then I was reminded of
Saint Paul’s Letter
To the Colossians,
And I realized the Might
And Strength I was
In such awe of
Could be camouflaged in the
Form of the ordinary
And most innocuous
Elements of the
Woods around me…
Leo Carroll
May 6, 2018
To me appear two
Leaves in surprise and peace,
To safeguard me as if
God’s angelic couriers
When all else is
Wind and awe and
Trembling…
“Two brown leaves,”
I exclaim, “the
Most ordinary
Of all that is weak!?”
“Yes,” replies
Their oak tree, “they
Are the fruit of my
Timber, and
Represent in this
Wild wood all that
You need…”
Leaves
Click for meditationRegarding "Leaves"
Not all change is
Gentle, and not all change
Comes in the guise of
A whispering, soothing tide.
At its core, life
Is eternally good,
But it does have the
Potential to sometimes
Seem otherwise.
And so I’ve seen
From time to time
Throughout my life…
Even when I was
Sitting against
An oak tree within
An arm’s length
Of a stone wall on
A beautiful Maine
Autumn day, as
Soon a I heard the
Rustle of leaves
Rolling across the field
In which I was
Sitting, it sent a chill
Throughout my
Body that change
Was coming…
And so it soon
Did…and it became
Another steppingstone,
Whether I wanted
It to be or not…
Leo Carroll
March 20, 2019
A rustle rolls up
The field, undulating, lifting
My head, washing over
Me in a beautiful
Autumn moment, but
To me this year it
Is also an unmistakable
Harbinger — like a
Rush of foam across
Sand flats at the
First turn of a tide from
Low to high — and
Clams, which had
Been quietly lying at
Rest, are then
Suddenly reminded
Their air holes are not
Invincible, but subject to
Being covered by
What irresistibly
Comes next…