an almost accidental gathering of poets
 
   
 
 
Donald Hall
 (1975)
The Town Of Hill
Back of the dam, under
a flat pad

of water, church
bells ring

in the ears of lilies,
a childīs swing

curls in the current
of a yard, horned

pout sleep
in a green

mailbox, and
a boy walks

from a screened
porch beneath

the man-shaped
leaves of an oak

down the street looking
at the town

of Hill that water
covered forty

years ago,
and the screen

door shuts
under dream water.
   
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