Need for a Quick Step

I noticed the cow in heat
as I drove the herd from the barn
out to pasture. The bull smelled her,
roared from his pen, scooped up straw,
and threw it over his back.
Let him snort, I thought, he can wait
till evening.
A wire on the barnyard gate
needed mending. I snubbed it tight
with a claw hammer and was just ready
to wrap it around the post when
my guardian angel spoke to me.
I turned and there he was,
right behind me, jaws frothy,
sweat shining on his shoulders,
a board from the broken door
spindled on one horn.
I took a quick step, slid through
the gate, locked it on the outside.
A surprise like that made me wonder
if our ancestors didn’t have quick legs
to beat the dinosaurs to their caves.