so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
I love this poet, and this poem. He was from New Jersey, and was the OBGYN at the hospital where I was born, Patterson General, in Patterson, NJ. Williams died in 1963. The doctor who delivered me was his replacement. I like to think of it as my near brush with literary fame. It's a stretch, I know.
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1 comment:
I liked painting a picture about that poem. Lots of love,
-Shelden
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