June crows

four crows in the June grass
watch me watching them
from my bright blanket,
while the fifth plucks sprigs
of blooms from the chestnut

an all-at-once wind teases
white petals into yellow light –
a sudden floral flotilla
and the fifth crow flies with one,
two, three sprouted sprigs

and I from my bright blanket
reaching into the world –
admiring the petals,
yet never wondering
who the bouquet is for

© Sarah Whiteley

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the moon has captured me
by the ankles, is
crawling through me
and I must burst
into new surfaces

this morning my hands
awoke, and for the first
time in years, ached
to find something other
than air beside them

but even without
the solid press of
your arm on mine, I
have found wonder in this
upended cup of stars

© Sarah Whiteley