Maine
Sailboat
Click for meditationRegarding "Sailboat"
To be free,
To be carried by the wind
Uncaringly, to
Cast your lot with
Fate and to let the tides
Caress you with
No fear, because you
Have decided to
Be free, the air in your
Hair and the
Air imbibed like
Quenching, wheat beer…
Ah, yes, free,
Answering to no one
But Mariah the Wind, and she
Turns her gaze
Towards you and asks,
“Why not come
Here, where the sails
Are topped for your life
To live?”
Leo Carroll
July 9, 2018
There rides my
Daydream, sailing towards and
Away from me,
Gracefully,
Effortlessly,
And then gone it is
Beyond a jutting shoreline,
Where it disappears
For a moment behind
A teasing veil…but then back,
I see it, back, tacking
Towards a little
Summer isle, appearing
To slow offshore
A small, sandy beach,
Contemplating,
Pausing, deciding whether
To dip its masts
Towards me — and from
Afar show a
Promising smile!
Mercy
Click for meditationRegarding "Mercy"
To me, the most important
Thing about being
At the beach is
That when I walk to
The water’s edge, I
Feel I am in the undoubted
Presence of Creation.
This is what I feel
In my heart,
And so, therefore,
I have the urge to touch
The waves and to be
Touched by them…
I always get down onto
One knee, usually
In shallow water,
And scoop my
Hands into the
Surf and then throw
It onto my face — over and
Over — as if I cannot
Get enough of the
Salt water. It is
An absolute blessing, and I
Have the sensation that
I am touching the
Hem of God.
There is nothing
In my life at that moment
That cannot be
Healed or helped.
I am at the original
Baptismal font, and I
Am at the Mouth and Mother
Of the River Jordan.
Leo Carroll
May 7, 2018
Down I reach
On one wet knee,
Hoping for the right wave
My cupped hands to
Greet. O, how I
Love this cold surf, this
Fresh compress to
My face, this
Blessed touch by
Something Greater,
My thirst to
Gratefully slake!
“Boom!” each
Wave about me crashes,
My hands held to
Their salty lips, as each
One of them
Approaches…and
On beach stones in foam
Kisses.
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…
Near the Quicksand Swamp
Click for meditationRegarding "Near the Quicksand Swamp"
One afternoon,
On a surprisingly balmy
Autumn day in the
Woods of Maine,
I laid onto my back,
And on a large, flat stone
Just dreamily gazed
Up at the tops of
Pine trees which were
Lightly swaying and
Letting loose
Their needles in
A wondrous display.
It was incredibly
Peaceful. A shower
Of pine needles was landing
Atop and all around
Me, and it was
As if I was receiving a
Genuine blessing
From the hand
Of Mother Nature,
Freely given and
In its gentleness
Amazing…and then
It passed…left…as if a
Wand had mysteriously
Crossed over me,
And my understanding
Of what the woods
Was speaking faded —
Behind a veil to
Someday be parted,
When I rest again
So easily…
Leo Carroll
June 21, 2018
For one brief moment, I
Felt I understood the woods. It came when a
Little breeze blew, and I saw pine
Trees their shoulders shrug
And their needles let loose…and then it
Was gone, my understanding
Fleeting like the precious breeze…
And I was left staring up at
Floating pine needles – but their descent
Again a forest mystery.
Ode to Milkweed Pods
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to Milkweed Pods"
I love milkweed pods,
And I love the field I find them in
Up in the woods of Maine.
Every time I walk into
That hallowed Maine field,
My eyes sweep for
Milkweed pods, and if I locate
Them, I always lie amongst
Them, as if their long
Stalks were blessing me,
The very same feeling I get as
When I dive into the healing foam
And font of the ocean.
So simple is Maine, so
Hardscrabble are
Its shrouded woods, so
Hidden its fields of milkweed,
So magnanimous to me,
So accepting, as if
I was a monarch butterfly,
And had alighted their sweet
Nectar to imbibe for my
Migration to eternity!
Leo Carroll
August 26, 2018
I thought I would
Never sit amongst you again…
That you would be but
A memory I always inhaled in the
Hymnal of my breath,
But then there you were —
Unexpectedly back, awaiting me —
The face to me of Maine’s autumn, and
So accepting unconditionally!
And so amongst you
I reclined, and you began to
Nourish me as if I was a
Monarch butterfly, and your pods
Became the nectar to sustain my pilgrim’s
Flight, until finally my migration
Reached the old by-and-by…