it depends

exotic bird wallpaper detail

I like the idea of Chinese New Year. I am always running late with things and I generally forget to post Christmas cards or buy presents in time and just end up assuring people I simply have no interest in the whole festive season.

So to have a chance to catch up and send people New Year wishes around a month later suits me quite well – particularly when the celebrations fall in early February as it means there is a vague chance I may be nudged into remembering the multiple birthdays of friends and family that fall at that time.

Sadly, this year the New Year – the year of the rooster – started this weekend, so there’s a fairly good chance I will have forgotten the birthdays again in ten days time when they actually happen.

No matter.

I still like the Chinese New Year and the impetus it gives me to do an early spring clean. (Yes, I’ve spent half the weekend cleaning, dusting, and scouring the stainless steel draining board with vinegar – mostly because there are important things I should be doing but can’t face.)

I also like the fact that this second New Year gives me something specific to write about, so I don’t have to worry about not having any ideas. I may not always have pictures to suit the theme – which is why the exotic bird above is more likely a bird of paradise than a rooster – but I usually have a few poems that are on-topic.

That’s why there will have been three posts this weekend, not the usual two, as it seemed too good an opportunity to miss to revisit this scene from village life in Spain from a few years ago.

So much depends

on whether it was
a red wheelbarrowwhite chicken and orange cement mixer
or an orange cementmixer

on whether it was
glazed with rain water
or shaded
from the setting sun

on whether there were
several white chickens
or just the one, escaped
from the neighbour’s yard

on whether it was
early twentieth century
industrial America
or rural Spain in 2012

on whether it was
William Carlos Williams
who saw the scene
or me.

For the chicken in question,
much more depends
on whether my cats find her
before the neighbour does.

 

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

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