The Birthday Present

by Holly Ann Welker

This new tractor was large and sturdy

but most of all it was red.

Things moved quicker painted red,

like fire engines, and there had been

two red candles on that cake

that had disappeared so fast.

Red. Big people spoke to him

but the tractor spoke louder,

of cold tile floors in need of plowing.

The wheels turned smoothly as the blades

dug up acres under the kitchen table

so he ignored the ache in his knees.

He wiped his forehead.

It would be a fine harvest!

He kept his eyes on the end of the row

while the wheels turned smoothly,

the engine hummed softly

and said red, red.