Sounds
Along the Assabet
Click for meditationRegarding "Along the Assabet"
Somewhere over the rainbow,
Somewhere in Acton along a road…I found
Myself seated along the Assabet
River. It all started when I
Was out on errands, and was
Waiting to have a car
Inspection completed. I was
Sitting outside the garage
Due to Covid-19 social distancing,
And was in an Adirondack
Chair, my mind near and afar…
As I was sitting there, I was
Marveling at the presence of
Some morning glory flowers
Hanging wondrously in front
Of me. They were mature plants
And were in large pots, and
Were very lighthearted in their
Pinks…Then through their
Foliage I heard a slight gurgling, and
Realized how very close I was
To the Assabet River! And so,
On a warm, muggy day
While out doing errands, I was
Graced with the cooling effects of
Color and sound and peace…
I peeked through the morning
Glory leaves and saw the
Shallow, running waters of the
Assabet, a foot deep, rounding what
They had rounded for eons…
And thus, perfectly-formed stones
Were added to the effects of
Color and sound, all culminating into
An unexpected moment…
A gift handed to me for free, and
All I had to do was to believe in it – – on a
Day in July when all else seemed
Tumult and roar and fear
Beyond relief.
Leo Carroll
July 26, 2020
The waters of life by me
Flow… “No worries,” they bubble,
“Let us o’er the riverbed
You row…” And so I let them
Take me, in sort of a
Swoon on a sultry afternoon,
Surrendering myself to
The moment, the waters in
Consonance with each other,
No vying for honors, their
Burbling being humble,
Rounding as for eons the already
Smooth-etched stones.
Morrill
Click for meditationRegarding "Morrill"
Every autumn for 21 years,
I went up to a cabin in the woods of
Morrill, Maine. It was a wonderful
Experience which I will never
Forget, and it is where I wrote scores
And scores of some of my
Favorite poetry. Seven years ago I
Took a sabbatical from going up,
But every fall I continued to
Feel the pull of the spiritual
Silence and majesty of those Maine
Woods. This autumn, after
My seven year hiatus, I
Returned for several nights
To those woods. It seemed a little
Strange for me, because
Although the woods appeared
Essentially the same, they
Did appear to have changed in
Subtle ways. It is hard
To explain. The more I have
Thought about this,
Though, the more I have
Come to realize that the true
Changes and differences
Were with me, and not the
Woods, and this is the theme of
All the poetry I wrote
While I was just up there. The
Poems try to put their
Finger on “something,” and the
“Something” is that the
Twenty one straight years
Were a distinct, unique period
In time, and performed a
Specific role in my life’s
Journey, and thus, when the
Woods and I saw each
Other again, we each took a
“Double-take” at each
Other – in pause and in
Shock – and I realized the truth
Of Thomas Wolfe’s saying,
“You can’t go home again,” and
Find either home and/or
Yourself the way things
Once were…
Leo Carroll
December 2, 2019
Ode to Morrill
You watch, waiting in
Silence, as if expecting I might
Have something to say, while I, in turn,
Watch you, thinking your
Branches to be both changed
And unchanged, your faces the same
Tho’ not the same…
Woods
Gray came up’n me,
Cold whipped the trunks of my soul,
Wind beat about me, and the
Woods whispered that “old” had crept
Into my snowy bones.
Moment
Still no movement, silence
Has even stopped…branches which are
Bent remain bent…branches
Which are straight guide my gaze
To their tops…
But then something flies
Chirping, and I would describe it if I
Could, but its feathers are
Too far away, and so I resume my
Autumn mood…
O, Angel of God
“O, Angel of God, my guardian dear…,”
And thus I begin my catechism’s
Childhood prayer, and then
In the silence, a distinct silence
Cold and white, a chorus rises up,
And chickadees alight…
Calling Out
“Where are you, Memory,
Where can I find you in the midst
Of this snowy field lying in
My mind and up’n this ground…?
Everything looks the same,
But my mind tells me
Something has changed…!”
Requiem
I returned to these woods to
Re-walk and live my old memories, and
Found some of them moved and
Wondered to where they
Might be keeping…?
And so I mused aloud,
“Is there not anything here
I can depend?!”
And then all my old
Haunts and shadows looked
O’er at me, and I knew
I had crossed the
Threshold to an e’er
Approaching requiem.
Silence in Stone
Click for meditationRegarding "Silence in Stone"
A stone wall is symbolic
Of everything this world is not.
It is silent, content to
Bask in solitude, confident
In its strength, and in
Absolutely no need
To be known. It is just there,
Wherever it is, blending
Into the background
Of everything going on
Around it, quietly listening,
Unassuming, and
Satisfied to stand in
Loyalty and solidarity to
The flesh which built
It with long ago hands.
It has no expectations,
Except that in autumn some
Maple, oak, and beech
Leaves lean against its
Moss, and that together
In the fading sunlight they
Share in the glow of the lost
Art of tenderness
In a time-forgotten,
Promised Land.
Leo Carroll
April 1, 2019
I try to claim each
Day in the name of silence,
If such a thing from
Noise is possible
In this world the
Garden of Eden has
Cast us into. Perhaps
This is why to
Stone walls I so
Gladly cleave.
They seem to
Be able to stand
Without having to do…
And just to be…
They are content in
Their timeless, tireless
Strength, and
Are happy to
Let the forest and
Its timbers beat
Their breasts before the
Moon, as if to
Achieve this could
E’er surpass the
Silence resonant in a
Stone’s beauty.
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!
Love
Click for meditationRegarding "Love"
I was recently sitting
In a waiting room in Stoneham and
Listening for my name to be
Called for my ophthalmology
Examination. It is still not clear to
Me what happened next,
But I sensed someone was
Standing in front of me and
Staring at me. I raised
My head slowly to look up,
And there was this little
Boy, perhaps six or seven years
Old, and he had a smile
On his face. As soon as our
Eyes connected, he said
Something quickly to me which
Came out in a burst, like a
Digital stream of binary
Information. I could not
Understand a word of it,
But whatever he said, it was
Obviously important to him from
His facial earnestness looking at me.
Before I had a chance to
Respond, however, a young woman
Quietly appeared beside him,
Gently took his hand,
And as she started to
Turn to lead him back to a
Chair in the waiting room,
She gave me a knowing nod,
As if to convey she knew
That for a few seconds
Her son and I had connected in a
Mysterious, spiritual bond.
Leo Carroll
February 20, 2019
I feel his presence before
I see him, a young boy perhaps six
Years old who now stands several feet
In front of me, almost as if an
Apparition he so suddenly appears,
Like a rush of wind and then the
Paraclete’s breath upon my face,
And he smiles but his attempt
To speak is garbled and unintelligible —
At least in a worldly way that I can
Understand — and then his mother
Walks up softly and takes hold his hand,
And gently leads him away to
A seat in the waiting room’s
Sheepfold … while I in my
Chair am left wondering in
Awe of the message spoken by his
Incomprehensible words, and
Why he had picked me to be
Culled from out of the herd to
Hear his vocal cords struggle
In stanza and verse?