The Red Wheelbarrow
(William Carlos Williams, 1923)

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white chickens

This poem is my constant companion.

You could choose to dig deeper to unlock its mysteries, or you could simply see the extraordinary from the ordinary. What if you ended your restless search and looked again with new found openness?

Sometimes chickens are chickens and a wheel barrow is a wheel barrow. And those two things, in and of themselves, are awe inspiring and infinite.

Stay close to the beauty and simplicity of your original work. Chances are it doesn’t need window dressing.