Mid-July:

the fourth fruits of the sky

drip down towards earth

a filmy gloss greening the surface

of what we know.

All around

dust falls quiet.

Leaves curl together in prayer

waiting.

Above, the gray sky

fills its lungs.

Mid-afternoon:

between field and gravel path

soft mist whispers 

to wilting and skeptical soil

of resurrection.

Hope sneaks in like fog

and new life

a possibility the dogwood

threw away months ago

moves, again 

overtop of the land.


Jacalyn den Haan is an emerging writer from Canada’s west coast and currently located in Montreal, Canada. Her work has appeared in Blank Spaces, Savant-Garde, and EVENT magazines. Her poetry chapbook Selected Leavings is forthcoming with Cactus Press in 2021. 

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