Picking Tomatoes, Near Freeze, at Midnight

Almost twenty years ago now, one summer’s night, I led a party of the blind—myself included— into a deep woods full of copperheads and barbed wire. Scruffy partisans of the sixties all, we had sat on the porch of my trailer in the woods of southeastern Ohio drinking beer until the sky clouded over with the beginnings of a storm, and the moon fled the hollow and pulled the black hat over its face.

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Richard Hague’s prose has appeared in his collections Milltown Natural: Essays & Stories From a Life; Learning How: Stories, Yarns, & Tales; and Lives of the Poem: Community & Connection in a Writing Life, as well as in Creative Nonfiction, Appalachian Journal, Now & Then, Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel, and several anthologies. He received the 2012 Weatherford Award in Poetry. He lives, writes, and operates a small urban farm in Cincinnati.

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