Small Corner

Either nothing depends
on anything
or everything depends
on everything else.

Wheelbarrows, plums,
glazing water, ice, chickens
not knowing their doom
is upon them —

some say each
depends on the others
for meaning, some say
all are independent actors

and the gears of this life
are unmeshingly broken,
it’s all tumbling down, it’s
all sentient objects for themselves.

Whatever the larger truth is,
I depend on the things of the world.
So much of me is revealed
when I gaze upon them

that I might never rest again
if they are not nearby,
giving me my anchor
to my small corner of home.