Wheelbarrow

This morning I saw on Lexington Road on the bank of a stream by a well-manicured house a wheelbarrow overturned rotting into the ground under a pile of brush.

We none of us can maintain our worlds keep them in good repair and proper order. All decays.

I am on Thoreau's railbed, I think. And here is a graveyard on and on. Lives that came and went.

But produced, evidently, headstone-carvers who survived them.

Someone made the wheelbarrow new, once.

So what I crave to know is is someone somewhere building a wheelbarrow today? Will someone again build a wheelbarrow tomorrow?