The Importance of a Red Wheelbarrow

Judith Bernstein

The Importance of a Red Wheelbarrow

A pigeon pooped on his head —

so funny I laughed until

I toppled on my back

into the red wheelbarrow

standing there, loaded with loam,

destined for the garden.

Infuriated, he grabbed the handles

and chased off on a wild, reckless ride,

full speed, hitting every rock,

across the garden, past the mailbox,

down the road, into the pasture,

to dump me on top of a cow patty.

Stooped over, holding his sides,

he laughed like there was no tomorrow.

I reached to grabbed his cuff,

to pull myself to my feet

and regain my dignity.

But his feet flew over his head as

he lost his footing in the mud.

When he landed on top of me,

eye to eye,

nose to nose,

he paused for a beat to catch his breath,

then kissed me like I had never been kissed before.

Do you know how much I love you?

he whispered as he drew a heart

on my forehead with a muddy fingertip.