morning rain, robin
on the handle
of the rusted wheelbarrow
wheelbarrow I found
in my father’s barn
before he sold that big country place
(loneliness, dementia)
I dusted off generations
of spiderwebs
painted it red
because Williams
now it lives in my yard
where it is frequently
Admired. People can tell
it’s led an interesting life
comfortable in its skin
and happy to be a perch
for searching the rain-soaked yard
Puff Of Smoke Poems 