Seasons
Snapdragons at First Frost
Click for meditationRegarding "Snapdragons at First Frost"
The snapdragon is my favorite
Flower. It is both fragile
And gentle in appearance, but
Very hardy, lasting even
Into December.
When I saw a bunch of
Magenta-colored
Snapdragons
Brimming with the
Crystals of the
Season’s first frost,
They were surrounded
By bright orange
And yellow marigolds
Posed like sentinels,
Themselves
Maybe the plainest
Of flowers, but
In my mind the most
Consistent and
Reliable…On that
Frosty morning, it seemed
Like Beauty was
Being guarded by
Duty, and Duty was
Being blessed by
Beauty. My mood was
Snatched from
Winter, and made
To contemplate what I
Was meant to see
In autumn.
Leo Carroll
April 26, 2018
They stand so stoically,
Seemingly silent against the cold, but
Warm against my chest they are,
And cradled by loyal marigolds…
They stand resilient, resolute,
As if still residing in kind
Summer, but it is winter
Which lives in my heart, and
I thank Creation for the magenta of
Their autumn saving color.
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…
Ode to Walden Pond
Click for meditationRegarding "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.
Passing
Click for meditationRegarding "Passing"
We often never know why
We meet someone, especially if the
Encounter was for what turned out to be
A literal second … Sometimes the
Meeting evolves into lasting
A lifetime, sometimes far less or
Seemingly not at all …
This is a mystery, and in
My opinion is related to the
Pilgrim’s path which we are all on.
We sometimes will
Never know why someone
Crossed our path,
While other times it will
Seem very self-evident. In
All cases, however, whomever
We have met in life, at
That fleeting second we have
Breathed the same air
With them, and the
Interaction imperceptibly
Affected the path we
And they were on. For a good
Part of my life I was oblivious to this.
Now, every time I walk into
Dunkin’ Donuts or a food store
Or some pharmacy or pull
Over into a service station for
Gasoline, I am much more aware of
My surroundings. Invariably,
There is someone I exchange a
Smile with, nod at, or
Have a brief conversation
With. I am there for them.
They are there for me.
And then we part, sometimes
Like a shooting star, sometimes
Like a floating, beautiful
Monarch butterfly.
Leo Carroll
January 22, 2019
I tried to
Think of a poem to
Send you, but my mind got lost in
Rolling banks of sentimental mist … and
So all I am able is to forward you
My very best wishes
Forever upon a sister star, as our
Galaxies now shriek past one
Another on polar-opposite paths, streaking
From that brief interlude where we
Once stood a sweet beach, but now due to the
Physics of warp speed —
So strangely afar.
Birds and Seasons
Click for meditationRegarding "Birds and Seasons"
Ah, connections,
Sweet connections,
Connections between birds,
Me, and seasons,
Connections, the things
Which tie the loose
Ends of my life into
Seamless, smooth knots,
Knots that make sense
To me, silken, like golden
Threads running
From month to month,
And so here I still
Am, with my ears
Listening to the
Avian voices of God,
With either a
Snow shovel or a
Spring rake in my hand,
But yet ready to
Always lift my head
And pause…
Leo Carroll
July 3, 2018
Little plump bird,
With your belly white,
Upon a snowbank
You peck at crumbs
Like you are the luckiest…
And above you
Watches blue jay,
From its curious perch on
A maple, as from
Its feet to below slips
Loose snow, to land
Where I resume
My raking in April…