so much depends

During a long and child-free car trip last weekend, RP and I somehow ended up talking about William Carlos Williams' poem about the red wheelbarrow (glazed with rain water, beside the white chickens). This isn't the place to get all serious and poetic. We don't talk about poetry much any more, and our trips usually mean snacks handed into the backseat and lots of songs by Taio Cruz and Katy Perry. 

In other words, it's been a long time since my modern poetry class with the amazing Kenneth Koch.

Kenneth Koch painted by Alex Katz here

But I do still think about his class a lot, and I try to follow Williams—to take heart in the beauty of details, of the taste of a sweet cold plum, of the sight of a rain-slick wagon and wet feathers. Or, today, these unexpected flowers from a lovely friend

or this miniature striped frame, with a beloved picture inside,

Charlie's old passport photo fits perfectly
(and I'm still a lame photographer)

or any other small thing. So much depends on them, after all.