Riding With Cows
Cattle take no sabbath
neither do I.
We both take the same one-lane road early Sunday morning.
We make room for each other although
a black Angus could crush me if it cared.
It does not care.
One white teenaged bull races
me, running alongside my 21-speed,
looking over its shoulder directly into my sunglassed eyes.
I pass it.
I do not look back.
Yikes!
I reside in cow country
this is perfect
and the look on each bovine face
as it asks
“what do you want from me? I’m a cow”
No. They don’t care, do they?
As i was reading this, I remembered a scene from the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou?when they pick up Baby-Face George and he starts shooting out the car windows and into a herd of cattle. Someone in the car says, “No, George, not the livestock!”
I didn’t imagine you’d be shooting any cattle while on your bicycle, though. Still, that’s the way my brain works sometimes 🙂
That white teenaged bull could crush you, gore you, kick you, destroy you. I was always wary of the bull on the farm where I grew up, tiptoeing quietly, carefully, heart thumping in fear as I had to sort of inhabit more or less the same space.
I love how you pedal on, strong, looking straight ahead without looking back. You can leave that scary beast in the dust. He can’t reach you now.
You get it, don’t you, Ann?
Oh, man. I wouldn’t look back either. You are so brave, Megan. In every way I can think of.
I don’t feel brave, Diana, but thank you.
Probably the highlight of his day…