A row of tall, slender poplars with bare trunks and rounded, feathery crowns crosses the full width of the picture, evenly spaced, with no single focal point. Behind them a dark band of distant woodland lines the horizon, and in front lies a broad green meadow flecked with dark specks and rust-colored touches.

A faint golden glow lingers low in the hazy dusk sky, and everything is veiled in soft evening mist. The surface looks like an aged Tonalist oil on coarse linen, with strong canvas weave, fine craquelure, scumbled dry-brush paint and tiny stippled flecks of amber where the crowns dissolve into the sky.