Photo by Monika Kubala on Unsplash

I am late coming home from school,
I had  to write lines as discipline, again.
But my thought at this moment is such regret
for the red dress with polka dots
and the straw hat with scarlet streamers.
I loved wearing them this morning.
Now I wish  they were all grey.

I stand here by the gate to the Valley meadow.
It does not matter than I have seen
so many custard-colored cowslips,
have teased out the blink of violets among
the grasses and early June’s leafy hedges.
The horror before me takes all my ken.
I look to the left and right, this side of the stream
and that.
They are everywhere, from tree line to hill.
Friesians!

Their color of black and white is so
beautiful against the fresh green grass..
No, wait a moment – I have to cross this meadow.
I am so afraid of them, beef cows grazing.
I must cross, and I am wearing red.
Will they notice me?
Will they chase me because of my dress?
But they are so lovely, so content
in their grazing.
Why should I fear, why should I believe
the story of their anger at red?

The other side of the meadow looks so far
and I must cross the stream.
Why did I choose this side?
That cow is looking at me.  Now another.

How can these Friesians hurt me?
Can I run faster, they’ve been eating all day.
Perhaps they will feel lazy.
What if I just walk?  Pretend I have no fear?

If I wait
will someone miss me at tea?
Will they come looking for me?

Wait a minute.  What am I saying
Do I want a rescue?  What would they say?
They would call me foolish.
A scared baby – I hear Mother’s voice.
I am not afraid.
I am not afraid.
Not afraid of the cows.

She can call me names,
I am not afraid of her!

Oh!

January 2006