THE RED/BLUE  WHEELBARROW WITH YELLOW SPOTS ON

Outside
the window

is

a William Carlos Williams poem
coming into being.

There, is
the red wheelbarrow

glazed
with rain

( minus
the chickens )

who
have wandered
off

as if not knowing
they are needed

to fulfill
the poem

upon which
so much

depends

(gone to lay an egg
as chickens do)    

& as I turn away
they march back into view

taking up
their poetical positions.

This living poem
even has its seasons

appearing to me

now covered in snow
now how dazzling

in bright bright sunshine.

Sometimes
(for my own surreal reasons)    

I paint the wheel barrow
a yellow or blue

or blue
with yellow spots or...

My wife laughs at me
& says: 'Oh...you! '

The wheelbarrow
long gone

to seed now
sleeps quietly

upside down
beside the hen house.

Flowers growing up
between its broken wheel

covered
in fallen leaves

it dreams of being
one day a real poem.

I smile.

'Now, where's
those chickens...gone? '

*

Chickens is notorious for missing their cues and pay no attention to the demands of the poem. They are not generally poetry lovers and usually don't give a cluck.

Ahhh they just didn't like being press ganged into a poem. They didn't go for WCW but they loved Auden.