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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1852366-The-Smell-of-Fear
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1852366
Face to face with Jonesy.
The Smell of Fear

He snorted and he snuffed
But he didn't make me cry.
I was only five years old,
His anger made me wonder why.

Why was he so mad at me?
What had I ever done to him?
I always walked along the lane
And left the field to all of them.

He had a lot of girlfriends
And lush, green grass to eat,
The freedom of the entire farm,
But still, he stomped his feet.

My hands began to sweat
As I tried to be at ease.
When his front hoof raked the gound,
I heard a knock between my knees.

His nose pushed through the wire.
Was it strong enough to bear
The tons of weight he pushed?
My feet took to the air.

That was all he needed.
He had seen and smelled my fright.
Dust flew up along the fenceline,
As Granny saw my plight.

She came running with a two by four
And waved it past his nose.
He had met this foe before
As in his tracks, he froze.

Granny hollered loud to me,
"Get in the house, now, Connieann."
The bull backed up as Gran advanced.
Fear shifted as she made her stand.

Granny saved my bacon
So long ago that day,
I steered clear of Jonesy,
Not getting in his way.

But when he was not looking,
I made faces with a wiggle,
Seeing Gran back up a bull,
Even now it makes me giggle.
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