'Trevor' the Tractor

My first word was 'Tractor'
Unsure as to why
Now whenever I see one
Just want to cry, cry and cry

If my first word was 'fog'
Well that would be better
Not a workingman's clog
To hobble and fetter

That first word's a factor
I wish to deny
It's what I am not
I'm no practical guy

Unspecific and vague
My perfect report
Try bottling that
In a winsome retort

I've only one gear
And it leads to an easel
I'm all crutches, not clutches
Work on whisky, not diesel

And why am I writing
These words not so clever?
I've been gifted a picture
Of a Tractor named 'Trevor'

William Carlos Williams wrote this:

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

With regard to the inspiration for the poem, Williams wrote: 

"The Red Wheelbarrow" sprang from affection for an old Negro named Marshall. He had been a fisherman. He used to tell me how he had to work in the cold in freezing weather, standing ankle deep in cracked ice packing down the fish. He said he didn’t feel cold. He never felt cold in his life until just recently. I liked that man, and his son Milton almost as much. In his back yard I saw the red wheelbarrow surrounded by the white chickens. I suppose my affection for the old man somehow got into the writing."

Unsure as to why I'm writing this other than that I've been reading about 'enjambment' and 'objective representation'. 

It's a slow day and... I love WCW's poem.
Unsure as to why.

Maybe because it's meditative, and vaguely specific... if that makes sense...

Oh, and perhaps because someone just sent me a picture of a tractor... named 'Trevor'.