Be like a tiger lily
in August
Be like a tiger lily Emulate the movement found in stillness stemming straight from the kind of blossoming that invites a slowing down, a noticing, a reaching in any direction that brings life, a way of being in the world, unapologetically what you are informing every bit of growth.
The sweet corn stands started appearing a few days ago, I’ve picked gallons of beans, blueberries and cherry tomatoes, and our tiny beach has gotten much bigger due to dry conditions and extreme heat encouraging the lake water to evaporate. The lilies and snapdragons and purple cone flowers are coming into their fullness. There’s a carpet of lily pads in the shallows, so we have to paddle out to the diving raft to swim now, and the water is warm. Deer flies and cicadas are thriving. July included several days of wildfire smoke haze, but today is clear as a new months begins.
It’s that time again: August and everything after. Always a mixed bag of conditions as the garden breaks out in harvest and (even as we sweat through yet another shirt) we realize the summer heat isn’t going to stick around forever.
As we move into the last full month of summer (where I’m at, anyway), may our attention to each moment be a prayer, one that allows everything to be what it is while working toward the changes we most need in order to thrive.
Church of the Wild1
This evening
and all evenings,
afternoons and
daybreaks
Let your attention
be a prayer
rolling with fog
over still waters
Let your attention
be a prayer
absorbing absolute or abating sun,
an ingestion of all kinds of light
Let your attention
be a prayer
joining birds and frogs
in making a joyful noise
Let your attention
be a prayer
one that fuses
with all other prayers
rising in a great cloud
of collected healing,
earth’s congregation
connected in community
attention to wild silence
a gateway to devotion
untamed and embodied
a holy refuge, a return to ourselves.
To August, and everything after.
Version of this poem found in Just Wild Enough.
Thank you Heidi.
Amen.