Never mind. Tonight the air hangs heavy, and my hands hang heavy, too, so in lieu of an opening post for the latest batch of snapshots, I give you a poem by William Carlos Williams that inexplicably came to mind. Adam Manwaring, wherever-in-the-world he is, would be pleased that I can't separate this poem from his deadpan delivery of it.
XXII
- so much depends
upon
- a red wheel
barrow
- glazed with rain
water
- beside the white
chickens.
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