Seasons
Spring Cleaning
Click for meditationRegarding "Spring Cleaning"
Birds are so faithful,
And in my opinion are
Attuned to the emotions of people
They encounter. The chirp
Of a bird can be so uplifting and
Mood-changing, and
Seems to come at the
Most opportune
Of times. I believe
Birds can “sense” our
Minds and emotions, and
Can be “there” when we need
Someone or something
To be “there!” So
Often I have been
Stunned by the ministry
And blessings of birds.
Chickadees, in
Particular, are good
Examples of this. They
Are tiny, but their
Hearts are so large!
Once on a cold and raw,
Autumn day in New
Hampshire, I was standing
Beneath a very large pine in the
Woods and watching a
Flock of chickadees about
Fifty feet in front of
Me. Over a course of
Several minutes, they kept
Inching their way
Towards me, hopping
From branch to branch,
Until finally they
Were about five feet in
Front of my face…
Then, they all rose up with
A rush, with the feathers
Of one of them brushing my
Right cheek! What an
Expression of love that was,
What tenderness, what
A wonderful way to be
Touched by the wings of God!
And thus also this
Past spring, when I was
Doing cleanup in my
Garden after the snow and
Wind of winter, I was standing
In a bunch of leaves with
My rake when I heard a
Flurry of activity around me,
And I realized it was the
Love of chickadees
Returned to me again, as
They flapped their
Wings about my feet,
And anointed me with
Maple leaves fluffed
About my boots without
My even asking …
Leo Carroll
October 1, 2019
A rustle in the leaves —
Surrounding and about my feet — and
Each maple leaf moves as
If fluffed by the wind,
But lo, ’twas not
A zephyr, but a gust of
Chickadees alighting like an
Angelic hymn!
Strange Day
Click for meditationRegarding "Strange Day"
Sometimes we can find
Ourselves in a place or state of mind
Which seems ‘different.’
Such a thing happened to
Me several weeks ago
When I went to a meeting
In Weston. I no sooner
Took the exit off Route 95 South
Onto Route 30 West and
I seemed to immediately enter
A different sensory world.
The traffic lights at
The top of the exit ramp
Were not working, and the
Number of cars on the
Road seemed eerily
Light. I eventually found
The address for which I
Was searching, but the weird
Wind and rain were no
Help! As I walked up the
Steps to the building,
I realized something
Was amiss because some
Sort of alarm system on the
Premises was beeping.
I tentatively opened the door and
Went into the foyer, and
There was more of the same.
People on the first floor
Seemed oddly subdued, and
It was then I heard the
Hum of a generator
Running – but not for the
Whole building, but just the
Offices on the first floor.
The elevators were not working,
And so I took the staircase
To the next floor, where
I came upon a waiting room
Where people were talking in
Whispers … Hmmm …
They politely pointed
Me to where I should sit,
And it was then I became aware of
Fire, police, and ambulance
Sounds on the roadway
Below the window.
Then a tree across the
Street crashed down, and
Was accompanied by the
Wind rattling uneasily on a
Nearby window pane,
All, remarkably, giving me an
Impression of events occurring in
Hues of black and white …
Thus, when later at my
Appointment, a person
Observed, “Strange day,”
Indicating to her, too, that
Things seemed out of whack,
All I could manage was,
“Yes, something surreal,” and
Thus it was and thus it
Still remains now –
Where was I really? Only
The wind and rain and
Swinging traffic lights
And building alarms and fire and
Police sirens and people whispering
Knew what time and place
My confused senses
And bearings had stumbled
‘Strangely’ upon. The only
Thing I can confirm is it occurred at
Exit 24 off of Route 95,
But even more ‘strangely’ –
I still felt and feel I belonged there
On my path to somewhere …
Leo Carroll
February 7, 2019
“Strange day,”
She says, and immediately
I agree, Yes, something surreal, but
Did the ‘strangeness’
Come from the day seeming
To be tinted in hues of
Black and white, or was
It the unstable, out-of-season
Tropical weather, or the
Malfunctioning traffic lights,
Or this building I am in
Shrouded in darkness
With a buzzer endlessly
Sounding in despair, or
The fire engine sirens
Coming closer from afar, or
The police lights flashing
Across the street, or an
Ambulance going by as if
From something fleeing, or
People in a nearby waiting room
Talking in whispers, or the
Wind curious and nibbling
At the window panes,
Or the thumping ‘bam’
Of a tree falling in the
Woods across the way!?
Yes, indeed, a very
“Strange day,” but for me
In this place, this life,
This time, just another further
Step along my journey
Without cessation.
Winter Sky
Click for meditationRegarding "Winter Sky"
The affect on me of
Canadian geese is inexplicable,
But the sight and sound of
Their flying overhead stop me in
My tracks every time.
There is something
Which is roused deep
Within me that has no
Limit in depth nor fathom.
I sometimes believe I encountered them
In some long ago past, and
When I first saw them
Way-back-then, they were
Likewise beating their
Way through a snow-sky.
Perhaps something happened
That forgotten day,
But every once in a while
They fly back again into my life,
And my mind begins to
Wonder what is that something
Which is being replayed…?
Leo Carroll
February 6, 2019
I hear them
Coming before I see them,
And I instantaneously
Stand stock-still, barely
Breathing, anticipating them —
Canadian geese in
Arrow-flight formation,
Beating their wings
Against a snow-cold sky, just
Like they once did flying over a
Primeval cave mouth
And in my hand
Was a sling which I
Let drop limply to my side,
And I watched them
Then as I do now,
Entranced as they
Plow ahead into the
Dark and soon-storm,
Not fighting its force but
Savoring it, their heads
Pointed straight into
What awaits them,
Their beaks confident
At the forefront of
Their phalanx, and ready
To be the first spears
To pierce into the
Winter’s teeth.
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.
Wagon Wheel
Click for meditationRegarding "Wagon Wheel"
A wagon wheel is faithful,
Always ready to roll…the only time
It stops working is when
It breaks and needs
Fixing, or when it
Is too old to be repaired.
Wagon wheels are
Held in mystical esteem.
Anytime someone drives in a rural
Area, even in an area which
Is no longer rural, it is
Possible to come upon a
Wagon wheel leaning against
A stone wall, a tree,
A barn, or something else.
They are rarely discarded.
They are respected.
Sometimes they are revered.
They are reminders of a
Simpler time of life – hard working
And dutiful. The lupines
In the photograph know what
The old days were like.
They grew then, just
As they also grow now.
Their collective memory
Knows the importance
And meaning of a wagon
Wheel. That is why they stand
In homage around the grey, weathered
Rim and spokes, and listen
To the stories…stories of what the
Wheels and their wagons once did, before
They became tired and broken and
Weathered and…
Leo Carroll
December 13, 2018
At last it has come to rest,
An old wagon wheel weathered, with its
Wizened spokes pointed outward
As if still poised in
Yesteryear’s duty-radius.
No more turns now, no
More thoughts of service, just a green field
Of lupines, to bind its
Wooden wounds in June’s
Glorious fervor.
And so it sits, alone
And at ease until gloaming’s end, alone
Except for lupines, and the
Lavender praise and reverence
Of their hymns.