The bull had come from sturdy stock,
standing defiant in his field.
His eyes they stared as if to mock,
the answer was to be revealed.
From being just a tiny dot,
he was now thundering at speed,
Then I was face to face and not
at all sure how he would proceed.
Perhaps he would just toss me high,
and throw me up into the air.
He plainly meant to terrify,
his nostrils had begun to flare.
I faced him staring eye to eye,
but he just snorted, turned his head.
And as his horns just passed me by,
he calmly sauntered back instead.
With such relief, my heart was stilled,
I felt my life had just been spared.
Not one drop of my blood was spilled,
but in those moments, I was scared.
Of them, one can be sceptical,
one juncture quiet, then in a rage.
They are a daunting animal,
no bovine to try and upstage.
The bull had come from sturdy stock,
I quite admired him for his brawn.
But when they start to run amok,
you just don’t want to be the pawn.
© Ernestine Northover
