a few dried blooms

I have reconciled myself to much lately
perhaps too much so
and now the hydrangeas
have lost their azure
bleached to bone-papered petals
kissed too closely by the sun
come fall I would have picked
bloom by bloom the dusky blues
and purples from their globes
as they dried for a bit of color
to scatter across the table
but today the possibility
vanished into dry disappointment
if I could just instead pluck
a few small pieces from the sky
of that certain blue with the gold-tinged
hue of days’ slow slide into early autumn
I would not so mind the loss
of a few dried blooms

© Sarah Whiteley

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letters to _____ – ii

in these leaves
we are writ
in the golden greens
of breathing springs
and in softened hues
of fading fires
I will hold you as
memory in winter
and not feel cold
come creeping
I will keep you as
kisses in summer
and in sprouting drown
but once a year
and always
in your earth

© Sarah Whiteley