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Musings

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Regarding "Musings"

There are some moments,
Some places, some situations, which
Can cast us into a freefall of
Emotions and thoughts
And musings. Such was the
Case when I was on
The beach in Mutiny Bay
On Whidbey Island.
My writings, while there,
Were both related and
Unrelated to the beauty of
The seashore, but they
Were a consistent collage
Of who I was, who I am,
And where the Muse has
Led my longing to be.
My thoughts placed me in
Awe before the Divine,
But also swung me back to
Consider the clay of
My humanity.

Leo Carroll
November 20, 2019

 

Knowing

If only I knew that I would
Never know, that I was merely
Destined to sit a beach
Like this, and to always
Wonder the meaning of a back
And forth, tidal flow…

If only I knew that I would
Never know, would I still persist and
Sit this beach, and in tremble
And awe be satisfied
With what had been gifted
So exquisitely…?

Seasons

…The eternal, intriguing
Nature of your smile, felt
Particularly in autumn, and
Fleeting, but always long
Enough to me beguile…it haunts
Me still, ne’er too far away —
What once I felt I knew,
But now the meaning I
Cannot explain…

Feelings

Puget Sound cold are my hands,
And cool across my brow brushes
A wind which also cloisters
And huddles shoulder-to-shoulder
The grains of sand, but
Blessedly and thankfully,
Faintly still warms the sun, and
About me circles the lingering
Season of someone.

Leo Carroll
October 14, 2019
Mutiny Bay
Whidbey Island, Washington



Photo by Dorothy Mave

Day’s Done

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Regarding "Day’s Done"

As I’ve said so
Often, I love this little beach,
This Pemaquid beach,
This jewel on Maine’s
Mid coast looking out
Onto the Gulf of Maine!
I am always so reluctant
To leave it. It lies on only a
Bit of a wisp of sand,
Perhaps a quarter mile
In length, but one that has
Given my grandchildren
A lifetime of memories and
Smiles – of seagulls
Swooping, and hermit crabs
Clinging to shelter
Inside the tiniest of
Shells, and sandcastles
And fortresses being
Buttressed against
The onslaught of a
Rising tide. This beach,
This secluded haven,
Has also been a
Gift of solace to me,
As I’ve sat and watched
Little running legs merge
With my own — in a
Miracle of times past
And now — as I morph
Back and forth
From boy to man,
Feeling melancholic over
Those things I would
Do over again…

Leo Carroll
August 27, 2019

 

The day’s gift of
Precious life all done,
All sand castles
Built, all bare little
Feet now home to be
Bathed and by
Sleepy-time
Welcomed,
All done, with
Naught but the
Majesty of dusk
To be spread across
A quiet, low tide
At rest, and the last
Glimpse of light
To be felt like a
Goodnight’s kiss
Unexpected.

Leo Carroll
August 16, 2019
Pemaquid Beach, Maine



Photo by Liz Carroll
Shasta Daisies

Ode to Shasta Daisies

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Regarding "Ode to Shasta Daisies"

As I meander
Along the curves of my
Rock garden’s
Wall, I come
Up’n a flock of
Long-legged shasta
Daisies, which
Ebb and flow like
A cleansing tide with
Whitest foam.
How peaceful they are,
How remarkable
In ability to soothe
The fray, how
Almost ignored,
Because who would
Expect their
Thin stalks to be
Able to bind
What makes afraid!

Leo Carroll
October 23, 2018

 

I would
Love to sleep
Amongst
You,
My duty
Finally
Come to
Rest,
My covers
Pulled
Up around
Me, and
Your
Wondrous
White
The sentry
I could
Depend.

Leo Carroll
October 10, 2018
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Leo Carroll
Acadia National Park photo from Beehive Trail looking Sand Beach

Looking towards Sand Beach and Beyond…

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Regarding "Looking towards Sand Beach and Beyond…"

I frequently
Speak about my
Pilgrim’s path, the
Trail I’m on as
My youth learns
It won’t last.
The longer I live,
The closer I am to dying,
And the more I hope
My path has
Somehow
More time…
And so I muse if
I might have
Multiple, serial
Forms of existence?
I must, such is
The staggering
Amount of
My shaping and
Smoothing yet
To be done, and all
I need is to
Look at Acadia’s
Sand Beach — and
See the pinprick-sized
Remnants of
Seashells, and
Realize Creation’s
Tides will wash me
Until Kingdom
Come…!

Leo Carroll
November 16, 2018

 

I see the deep, and if
I can e’er reach it beyond the rocks,
Then maybe into its blue
Arms I can dive and sleep…
Returned home after
Millennia of seemingly
Endless searching,
My pilgrim’s path finished,
My tired feet no longer thirsty…so
Tantalizingly close but still
So far away, because
The remaining steps of my
Path are destined for
A finely sculpted copse
My walk must enter
Along the trail…and then
Onward to a beach, itself
Formed of infinite, miniscule
Pieces of seashells, each
Shell’s journey incalculably
Longer than mine,
Literally grounded into
Smithereens, and the length it
Took not e’en known
By Time…

Leo Carroll
September 29, 2018
Beehive Trail, Acadia National Park



Photo by Scott Lewis
Seashell in my palm

Ode to Seashells

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Regarding "Ode to Seashells"

I love seashells.
They have so many shapes
And curves, so many
Edges smooth but yet still being
Smoothed, so innocent
But yet so strong,
Strong enough to have
Withstood roiling
Riptides, and yet gentle
Enough to lie as a feather
In the flesh of a palm,
So many stories to
Tell, so many waves which tried
To crush them asunder,
So many channel buoys
Ringing in their ears,
So many nameless beaches
Which showcased them in splendor,
So many hands which might
Have picked them up, and then
Passed them along — until
They came to where I am, and
My eyes in another’s
Palm gaze them upon.

Leo Carroll
August 13, 2018

 

How came you to
Be in her hand, so that to me
She would you give,
My flesh to become soon your
New plane of sand,
Your thin frailness
To become my strength…
Each to the other
To the other…all having
As their source the
Unremitting pounding
And smoothing you once
Withstood — upon an
Anointed shore I tremble to even
Set my pilgrim’s foot!

Leo Carroll
August 13, 2018
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Elaina Carroll