August (Poetry + Photos)

Welcome back to my (poetry + photos) series, where I share a poem I wrote about each month and include 10 nature photos I took during that month (of various years). Enjoy :)

Bald Eagle (adult)

Bald Eagle (juvenile)

The word "August" means

"To inspire reverence, wonder, and awe."

August is ripened wisdom,

And sun-browned skin.

It's knowing captured 

Under brilliant sunlight.

In a lifespan,

It's 55 or 60 years,

Where bright stories and humor

Weave life into pain.

It's earned marks of age,

Charming wrinkles,

And a few stray grays,

Sitting on vitality's edge.

The word itself sounds like "autumn",

But it's not there yet.

Just glimpses, at most.

August is that buoyant moment

In the pause before an exhale,

Like cueing up to jump off a rock,

Into a sparkling lake.

It's silent courage springing

Through the knees

And empowering the leap.

In the trees, it's a few spots of red,

Blushing coyly in the midday heat,

Or a few corkscrewing, yellow leaves

Dancing down one at a time,

Slow enough to be captured

In a photograph,

And unaccompanied by others.

In the birds, it's a trickling return

From the north,

One by one, day by day.

It's oriole song falling crystal and fluid,

Hidden by dense canopies of green,

Or Red-breasted Nuthatches,

Standing in for their pale-breasted kin,

To match the coming autumnal aesthetic.

August brings varied weather,

Gusting waves and winds,

Blankets of humidity weaving through

Cricket and cicada songs.

Hot, long, sticky days

Winding down

With dwindling bonfire flames.

Sometimes, there is rain,

Remembered from spring,

But now here to cool, sustain, and relieve,

Rather than to pull forth.

Feel August's fire now,

It's in the skin,

The belly,

And in the heart.

It's in the aging leaves,

The southward birds,

And in the now setting-setting sun.

(Aphrodite?) Fritillary Butterfly

Here are the previous months' poems:

January

February

March

April

(May-July are MIA... potentially because I'm less creative those months with my words, and more action-centered? LOL. Whenever I get them, I'll post them)

Barn Swallows Begging for Food

Wait For It...

Success!

Dead Crow's Foot

Purple Coneflower

White Admiral Butterfly

Lil Dude on Pictured Rocks

March (Poetry + Photos)

Barred Owls

Last year, I wrote a poem about each month. This year, I'm sharing them, along with photos I've taken that month (photos drawn from a variety of Marchs). Happy spring!!!

Blue-gray Gnatcatcher

Purple Finch

Red-winged Blackbird amidst the buds

Migration of Tundra Swans

March!

The most assertive month of the year,

It speaks in verbs,

And calls to action,

With commands like,

"March fourth!"

Luck and awakening meet,

In this season of becoming-green.

Sometimes it teases,

Like a mirage,

Peeking at warmth,

Then shimmering away with a morning frost.

But she proceeds,

With confident strides;

Mother Nature's New Year,

Moving, quivering,

Alive with flight and color and song.

This bright and clear, syllabic awakening

Is palpable outside and in.

Place your hands in Lotus Mudra -

For we are flowers emerging from mud.

Outside, a caterpillar squirms to life.

I wonder if it knows

What it's about to become...

If you'd like to read January's poem, click here, and February's, here.

Sunset

Eastern Towhee

Migration of Tundra Swans

Caterpillar (swallowtail?)

January (Poetry + Photos)

Long-eared Owl

Last year, I made a goal to write a poem every month, inspired by that month. Most of them, like me, weave notes of:

• Nature, 
• Breath, 
• Body, and 
• Soul. 

This year, I'd like to share those poems with you. I'll pair them with photos I've taken during that particular month! 

Great Blue Heron

Winter's Glow

So here's January - 

A poem by me (Little Bird Nerd / Andrea Rose / @inbodiednature) 

January feels like a preview to spring, 

The moment of conception before the birth, 

Where every thought, 

Every breath, 

And every bird is new. 

Infant in time, 

Yet pregnant with possibility, 

January is fresh, intentional, slow, and gentle. 

It's the pause before an inhale, 

A yawning awakening, 

A chance to "start close in."

January looks both ways like the god it was named after, 

Two-headed Janus, 

Gazing both behind and before. 

We feel the echoes of last year's cycles 

As we emerge, stepping into white space, 

Good space, 

Sukha. 

January speaks the language of owls, 

And peers through a different lens. 

It's time to plot out our course 

And swivel our gaze, 

Awakening to the messages 

Which drift upon dreams. 

The blues which normally inhabit the sky 

Now wash their way down to earth, 

Setting the filter to cool. 

Like when we open our eyes 

After they've been closed for a while, 

And everything looks ultramarine. 

Outside we breathe smoke signals, 

Dancing proof of our own aliveness. 

We practice "Hygge" as the Norwegians say, 

Opening our arms to change, 

Embracing our power,

We spark warmth underneath our chilling bones. 

This winter fire fuels intention, 

A braid of head, heart, and hands.

There's power in the collective now, 

A quiet trust in the resetting of things. 

With ritual, presence, and contentment, 

Movement forth becomes our medicine. 

We cross the bridge from reflection to projection, 

Turn, turn, turning the wheel once again.

Tracks

American Robin

Winter Wren

Wintery Marsh Vibes

Red Squirrel

An Icy Winter Sunset

Winter's Quiet Power

grAttitude

I just listened to the most recent episode of the "Ologies" podcast with Alie Ward (I highly recommend; each episode is a spirited interview with a different specialist or "ologist"). 

This particular episode was called "Awesomeology - Gratitude for Little Things," so of course, it spoke to me. The interview was with Neil Pasricha, who said so many things I Loved; but I was most tickled when he listed some of the top ways to increase your sense of happiness. The first three of four things happened to be some of my favorite things: journaling, walking through the woods, and moving your body (the fourth thing was singing - especially in groups).

It comes as no surprise to me that walking through the woods and observing nature is such a recognized pathway to gratitude and contentment. The very essence of woods-walking implies a pathway, a journey, a sensory-filled, continuous moment with no need for an end. Here, we decompress. We step away from screens and the illusion that we always need to be multi-tasking. Among the birds and in the trees, we find gratitude in recognizing seasons, checkpoints, the familiar and the unfamiliar. We delight in noticing something growing, changing, glowing, or behaving beautifully in front of our eyes. We soak up the pull of the earth and the aroma of the trees, which result in true physiological changes in us.

I know this. If you're like me, you know this. And if you don't know this, go try it out for yourself. On the regular. You'll find that the more you do, the less power those imperfect or painful or anxiety-provoking things will have over your perception.

Here are a few snapshots from my various woods-walking excursions throughout 2020. These were all moments where the past and future dropped away, and I felt my mantra clearly ringing through me, "There is no moment more important than this one." These are times where the beauty filling my senses meant more than the worries clouding the back of my mind. These are the things that allowed me to decide that 2020 was not a "dumpster fire" or a waste of a year, as the media would have us believe. These are my little things. My focus. My practice of seeking good and finding it. Every time.

"Dustin" (the tree)

Acorn Woodpeckers

Allen's Hummingbird

Cooper's Hawk [W] v. Northern Flicker [L]

Red Trillium

Nature is the window to the soul...

Hooded Warbler, one of my fav birds

Best pic yet of an Ovenbird

Palm Warbler

Blanding's Turtle

Snowberry Clearwing Moth! lifer

Bald Eagle adult

Bald Eagle juvie

Red Crossbills (lifers!)

Oh, and one more thing - a few gem suggestions from Neil Pasricha and that "Ologies" podcast, just in case you're interested in implementing that journaling practice 😉:

• Try playing a game of "rose, rose, thorn, bud" (either with yourself or out loud, with someone you live with), where you list something you're grateful for, or a bright spot to your day; then another; then something that disappointed you today; and finally, something you're looking forward to.
• Try a daily practice of waking up and right away thinking or journaling three things:
• I will let go of...
• I am grateful for...
• I will focus on...