Daybreak in Bretagne

J.C. Scharl

None now of that sheer gold of sunset,
decadent, the clarity of last light
on scarlet poppies.

Now mist rides the muted fields like breath,
going out and at once returning. The dew
neither gathers itself nor dissipates.

The world herself is an aging nun, veiled
in gray but for the cool luminance
of her deep, quiet face.

J.C. Scharl
Poet & Critic

Jane has been published in Measure Review, Plough & The Scores

Photography by Mateus Campos Felipe

Ekstasis Magazine