Leaves
Winter Blessings
Click for meditationRegarding "Winter Blessings"
All it took was the
Meditative rhythm of the
Sound of light rain falling on
A small garden bed
Covered in old oak and
Maple leaves, to
Soothe the seas of
My mood, and then
Adding to this calming
Effect was the soft sound of the
Same rain hitting the
Mossy and mottled
Rocks of an adjacent,
Worn stone wall …
Reminding me once
Again that the gifts from
Creation actually
Occur all year-round,
Not just in spring or
Summer or fall,
But in winter when
First impulse might be
To don sackcloth
And ashes, but instead
The January drizzle
Wags its finger and says,
“No, not at all …!”
Leo Carroll
January 11, 2019
I hear
The pitter-patter of light
Rain on leaves, maple and oak and
What else lies hibernating between, and
I hear an even softer sound
As it lands on a nearby
Stone wall’s mottled moss,
Green and grey in blotches, an old
Coat from the colonial era,
But to me now like new
Wineskin cloth . . . and
Thus my ears listen intently,
Interpreting, soothed by
This revelation and nurture
Alive in my January garden,
When winter would
Otherwise harness me
To my mood, and it wouldn’t
Be until the first crocus’s
Song that I’d dare consider what
Spring’s freedom could
Loose.
Maple Leaf
Click for meditationRegarding "Maple Leaf"
Of all leaves,
Maple leaves are my
Favorite, and of all the seasons,
I like the warmth of their
Hues in autumn the
Absolute best, and on this
Particular day it seemed
That one maple leaf
Of the most vibrant color red
Actually levitated over
The peridot waters of
Walden Pond, where the
Smoothed stones
Beneath the surface
Marveled at how a leaf
Could defy gravity —
And above the shallows
Dangle as if by the leash of
A golden thread.
Leo Carroll
October 22, 2018
A
Perfect
Maple leaf,
Autumnal and
Living-red,
Seems
O’er the
Surface as if to
Levitate —
Lest it
Dip its
Color into
The
Pond,
And
Dilute the
Work of
Walden’s
God.
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…