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Walden Pond with reeds in foreground

Ode to Walden Pond

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Regarding "Ode to Walden Pond"

This poem attempts to
Explain the profound meaning of
Walden Pond to me.
But my words fail!
My feelings on this subject
Far surpass the ability
Of my verse to
Convey them, and,
Honestly, probably
Always will fall short…
Everything about
Walden – the
Chameleon colors
Of its waters,
The changing moods
Of its seasons
As seen in the
Overhanging leaves,
The warmth of
Its late spring and
Summer and early
Autumn waters, its
Mystical depths
And fathoms, always
Mysteriously
Rising and falling,
Its stone steps for
Sitting and remembering…
These all overwhelm
Me…and simultaneously
Both draw me to
Walden Pond and caution
Me not to get too
Close — lest I turn into a
Pillar of salt, like once
Betook Lot’s wife.

Leo Carroll
October 29, 2018

 

I am told your colors
Blend blue and green, but I
Choose olivine, and
See your hue as if tinted
Like an earring.

I am told your seasons
In rhythm move from mood
To mood, but I choose
Autumn, and call its
Peace, “maple solitude”

I am told your waters
Can vary in their heights and
Depths, but I choose
The level which best
Reveals your stone steps.

Leo Carroll
July 3, 2010
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Scott Lewis
Fall leaves

Autumnal Remembrance

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Regarding "Autumnal Remembrance"

Autumn is a metaphor for
Endings and things
About to change. It is a time of
Great color, great beauty,
But change is definitely in the
Air, and everyone and
Everything knows it.
All Creation knows it, and it
Plays out in the life of
Every living thing. It is a
Season of soul-searching and
Introspection, melancholy
And feelings of loss – missed
Opportunities and
What-ifs, and on and on…
All this, though, silhouetted and
Accompanied by the
Wondrous majesty of
Nature as it peaks — and
Literally right before it falls…
In my mind, all other
Seasons pale in the
Shadow of autumn, and
It is in autumn when we get
The opportunity to
Re-evaluate our pilgrim’s
Path – and to somehow
Keep hope alive, because the
People upon whose shoulders we
Have stood are still with
Us in spirit, speaking to us
Through the things that they
Liked the most about autumn – geese
Passing overhead, yellow
Maple leaves dancing
In the breeze, the stunning
Purity of first frost on the
Petals of snapdragons…

Leo Carroll
May 20, 2018

 

When you hear the geese move overhead,
When you feel the wind rustle in the trees,
When you see the leaves begin to fall,
Please think of me, and I will be there.

When you smell the cool in autumn’s air,
When the sun bathes you in fading warmth,
When the flowers crowd for one last night,
Please think of me, and I will be there.

When dusk is early and morning late,
When frost touches dawn before it awakes,
When the grass curls for a season’s sleep,
Please think of me, and I will be there.

When fall becomes your season’s mate,
When you’ve aged and begin to contemplate,
When you wonder about all you’ve been…
Please think of me, and I will be there.

Leo Carroll
October 15, 1999
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Jim Sonia
Yellow Maple tree canopy

Paean

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Regarding "Paean"

There is something
About the color yellow which
I find particularly
Warming, whether it
Appears on yellow maple
Leaves in autumn, or
On buttery-yellow marigolds
Or snapdragons or
Day lilies in summer. This
Poem is about when
I saw a magnificent,
Yellow-leafed maple tree,
Its leaves as if they
Adorned the throne of
Creation, and their hue as if
Personally applied
By watercolors from
The sun. And I saw this
Tree with its golden
Leaves while driving in
A suburban setting in
Needham, Massachusetts!
If I had seen such a
Tree and its leaves in
The woods of Maine or
New Hampshire, I
Would not have been as
Surprised, although I
Would have felt equally
Gifted, but I saw
These leaves when and
Where I did not expect — as
Always, Mother Nature
Caught me off guard,
And spoke to me when
My heart needed it,
And when the scales from my
Eyes were removed to
Reveal the magnitude of
The stunning message.

Leo Carroll
May 16, 2018

 

O, yellow leaves,
Gentle as balm,
Resting in God’s sunlight,
So soft to me,
So holy to me,
Only the wind knows
Your delight.

O, yellow leaves,
Simple and pure,
Faithful like a friend,
Beckoning all,
Proclaiming fall,
Even aft you drop, still
My godsend.

Leo Carroll
October 14, 1997
Needham, Massachusetts



Photo by Valentin Farkasch (via Unsplash.com)