End of summer. Morning.

Haystacks. End of summer. Morning.

 

 

The harvest season of 1890

spread its light

across the fields

of France.

 

With it came a changing sky

to occupy

the artist who raced

and immortalized

it into

twenty five canvasses.

 

Hands worked

to etch red-gold hay

with blue;

hedgehog softness settled

on the painterly

picture plane.

 

Dewy sunshine rested on the left

of the stacks

who harbored sweet shadows

to their right.

 

Behind them, mountains:

Hazy spots of trees

framed the result and faded

to force perspective.

 

Only the impressionist

could capture the naive

glory of a haystack at dawn,

 

when summer is closing

and the shade is long.

One Comment

  1. In my opinion, I feel this is a solid work. There is great use of both adjectives and verbs, the tone is constant, and the imagery is fantastic. I also like the topic and how unconventional the descriptions are.

    Although this is, at least comparatively, a short poem, a few stanza breaks could be used to separate the thoughts efficiently. In addition, adding more content to give more context for the reader might make the piece feel more whole.

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