Of all the poems in the world, this is the one I think about most often. In a few spare stanzas, everything. If you'd like, read about William Carlos Williams here.
The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams (1883 - 1963)
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
"As soon as we express something, we devalue it strangely. We believe ourselves to have dived down into the depths of the abyss, and when we once again reach the surface, the drops of water on our pale fingertips no longer resemble the ocean from which they came...Nevertheless, the treasure shimmers in the darkness unchanged." ---Franz Kafka
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