Sometimes I run by the cow field.
As you may have guessed,
mottled creatures cut lines through the grass.
I always stop.
Wind pulling the hair
that is jostled from my ponytail,
I watch the beasts
like how a child is drawn to
the snakes at a zoo.
They caress wet noses with their tongues.
In a weird way,
it reminds me of frosting a cupcake.
A tail droops from their backside
wincing 
when the flying critters bother it.
Stomachs grip tightly to their backbone,
swaying side to side
as they meander in circles.
I take a last look at the creatures.
Lazy lids kiss as they blink goodbye,
and with an inhale
I continue running.

It is like any other day.
My feet smack the dirt,
breath catching
like a saw in wood.
But something is different.
As I jog up the hill
a snake smelling of peanuts
bites me on the nose.
I cough.
I stop.
I smell the air again.
The stench swarms like bees around my head.
I swat with my hands 
at invisible bugs.
The smell slinks away.
And as I usually do when I feel uncertain,
I look ahead,
I look behind.
My feet cautiously plod forward.
A hill separates me and the cow field.
Warily,
I crest the top of the ridge.
My eyes dart like a cornered mouse.
But no one could miss it,
sitting in the middle of the cow field,
smiling at me through the fence,
a circus tent.

I have to admit, 
though my heart is clogging my throat,
I am curious
and somehow,
I find myself
swinging a leg over the fence.
Weeds try to wrestle my shins,
possibly back to the fence,
possibly towards the tent.
I find myself,
breathing hard,
at the entrance.
And though the wind swirls my hair,
the cloth hangs motionlessly.
I part the striped lips
and immediately another wave of peanuts hits me.
The tent is alive with people,
bustling on stilts,
juggling balls,
taming lions,
so caught up in their actions, 
they barely notice me.
A woman on a unicycle wheels past me.
She tosses a single daisy into my palm.
I wonder at its small white petals.
As intriguing as it all seems,
I know something isn't right.
like swatting flies in the dark,
I can't quite figure out what it is.
But then it hits me,
a boulder from the sky.
Where were all the cows?

I did not see a single creature grazing in the field,
not one beast had wandered through weeds today.
The cow field is never empty.
I look around.
The jugglers slowly blink their big brown eyes.
The lion tamer occasionally licks his lips.
The vendors rock side to side,
boasting round stomachs.
I blink and suddenly,
the room is full of cows.
They knew I was coming.
They know I am here.
I turn on my heels,
but the entrance is closed.
The fabric seems to have sewn itself shut.
My nails scratch the cloth,
digging into the threads.
My feet pointlessly churn in the gravel.
Sweat slithers down my forehead.
I hear hooves behind me.
A bit of the cloth gives
and a small hole opens.
My fingers wiggle the hole wider.
Each second
feels like an eternity.
The fabric rips.
I scramble through the doorway I made.
Glancing back,
the wide eyes blinking at me seem to smile,
gazing at me from a gaping mouth.
I sprint across the field,
feet digging into the mud
I hurdle the fence and roll into the road.
My breath comes in hiccups.
My legs curl to my chest and I cry.
A car skids around me,
clearly swearing,
as they barrel away down the road in a cape of dust.
It takes me a few minutes to slow down my breathing.
The tears stick to my eyelashes
and dust clings to my wet cheeks.
I risk a look back at the field.
The cows are munching on weeds
and swatting at the flying critters
like nothing happened.
The tent vanished
and the spot where it stood,
is not even matted down.
I glance down the street,
looking for evidence in the potholes.
My palm is wet.
At first, I assume it is sweat.
But as I unroll my fingers,
there is something lying there,
smushed till the point where I almost don't recognize it.
The daisy.

I never run by the cow field anymore.