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POETRY

April
By John Meredith Hill

There are puddles.

If a person wanted to

he could spend an hour

 

picking up litter,

raking, mowing

tufts of grass.

 

A white cloud hangs high

in the sky down

the third base

 

foul line. One boy arrives

& then another &

another & another.

 

—EFQ


JOHN MEREDITH HILL, a former batboy for a White Sox minor league club, is professor of English at the University of Scranton and director of its writing program and reading series. He lives in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, and Provincetown, Massachusetts, with cultural anthropologist Ann Maxwell Hill.

© 2006 John Meredith Hill

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