Continual Conversation With A Silent Man

I scored as Wallace Stevens on a "Which Modern Poet Are You?" quiz. Since I'd never read any of his poems, I decided to do a little investigation and found this. I like it, because of the vivid imagery and the word play.

The old brown hen and the old blue sky,
Between the two we live and die--
The broken cartwheel on the hill.

As if, in the presence of the sea,
We dried our nets and mended sail
And talked of never-ending things,

Of the never-ending storm of will,
One will and many wills, and the wind,
Of many meanings in the leaves,

Brought down to one below the eaves,
Link, of that tempest, to the farm,
The chain of the turquoise hen and sky

And the wheel that broke as the cart went by.
It is not a voice that is under the eaves.
It is not speech, the sound we hear

In this conversation, but the sound
Of things and their motion: the other man,
A turquoise monster moving round.

I think the old brown hen is the earth, the turquoise hen is the sea...and the sky speaks for itself. The cart is most likely life, and the wheel is time.