The Tiny Line Break That Makes a Wheelbarrow Matter

“The Red Wheelbarrow” — William Carlos Williams (1883–1963), American

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

About This Poem

The secret of this poem is not the red wheelbarrow. It is the pause after “depends,” and then the little, startling word “upon,” left briefly by itself. Williams makes the sentence physically depend upon what follows: the poem’s meaning hangs in the air until the wheelbarrow arrives. That is a wonderfully useful trick for your own writing today—put the important word at the end of a line, paragraph, or sentence, and let the reader feel its weight before you explain it. The poem also refuses to tell us why the wheelbarrow matters; rain, light, color, and chickens are enough. Williams understood that attention is a form of affection: look closely at one ordinary object, and it begins to glow.

This is poetry stripped down to its rain-slick bones. Read it aloud slowly, especially the pauses. You may find that the wheelbarrow has become less like farm equipment and more like a small red planet holding the whole scene in orbit.

If You Liked This

Try Ezra Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro,” another miniature poem that turns a quick glimpse into something unforgettable.