There were too many perplexing questions needing answers in my day and I was overdone. Attempting sleep, I took deep breaths and quieted my mind. As I cleared out space, into the vacuum came William Carlos Williams’ “The Red Wheelbarrow.” In my sleepy state, it wasn’t words that came; it was a scene. A red wheelbarrow in green grass, dew sparkling, sun streaming. A slight breeze, sounds of grasses humming, birds calling drowsily. And I, drowsy too, drifted off. The next day I read the poem. so much dependsupon a red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside the whitechickens Ah, so sparse, so unfettered by capitalization and punctuation. Clean. Crisp. Only…