I would love to have been looking over the shoulder of William Carlos Williams, in 1923, when he penned this classic. So simple. So complex.
- so much depends
upon
- a red wheel
barrow
- glazed with rain
water
- beside the white
chickens - This former 'red' wheelbarrow of ours is a well traveled device. Mom bought it when she moved into her new house on Bancroft Street in the city. Elenka and I helped her spread loam and seed her front yard. It's not the most rugged of barrows, but it has survived. These days Elenka uses it to transport plants and such around her gardens. That wheel is wobbly, but otherwise it survives, with dents, rust and a couple of holes, in its 'retirement' home.
Snow substituting for rain, but where are the white chickens?!
ReplyDelete... the chickens are down the road.
DeleteIt's had a full life.
ReplyDeletewe have an older one, too. bought it from a neighbor who was moving out as we were moving in to our first home. changed tires a few times and kept it going for about 25 yrs, now.
ReplyDeleteI have it's twin.
ReplyDeletePretty special, that one...love hearing your appreciation for it & for your family history.
ReplyDeleteA fine old friend!
ReplyDeleteSounds like my wheel barrow.
ReplyDeleteNice shot. I used to have one just like it.
ReplyDeleteThat is at the same time the simplest and most profound poem.
ReplyDeleteI like the photo a lot. Scrawl a signature of Marcel Duchamp across it and some snooty people up from Boston will think it's high art.
ReplyDeleteHad a wheelbarrow just like the one in your nice photo -- I bought it used and old. It worked just dandy for many more years -- it was a trooper -- barbara
ReplyDeleteI, too, would have liked to been with WCW as he wrote simply but with incredible imagery. I loved wheelbarrow rides as a child!
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