sprung from the ether

"Bill" Williams (his closest friends called him "Bill")

but…William Carlos Williams

wrote a short one concerning a wheelbarrow,

16 words but he makes 4 stanzas of them

–– and he seems dependent on the wheelbarrow,

a red one, for its simplicity in the light of day,

"glazed with rainwater" leaving the decision

of a current or recent rainfall up to me.

so maybe the sun broke through, maybe not, he doesn’t say.

now chickens are closing in on the wheelbarrow.

he says they're "white chickens"; he doesn’t say how many chickens.

(but that's the way of it with chickens; it's always:

"going to the coop to feed the chickens" and never:

"going to the coop to feed the 13 chickens")

so Bill's got a strong point in his favor right there.

–– nevertheless, I'm not sure what to make of it but as always,

whatever's defined or undefined of this little poem

is left to my discretion; I'm the one who has to deal with

all of it this morning and you thought you had problems.