Killer cows

There were stories told on my school bus

by junior high boys

about farmers who were pinned in a stall

by startled steers

or news of a friend's father

crushed by an angry bull

in a corner by the barn.

These men had a unique

perspective on cattle which

was not easy to sing to the

tune of Old McDonald's Farm.

But to share that perspective,

all you need is to come round

the endrows of a field of corn

to face a heifer who has taken

advantage of an open gate

and has a glimmer of an idea

that freedom in corn

is a better option

than the pasture behind the fence.

The way her dark eyes

look past you,

or through you,

toward the open field

with breath billowing in the

early fall morning,

and the way the steam rises off

her broad black back,

and the way she points a front hoof

as a warning that she is moving forward

and is not concerned that you are standing

before her

is enough to remind you that she

could be

a killer cow.

Ee-I-Ee-I-Oh. 

L. Powell, 22 October 2011

Creston, Iowa