It Could Happen

It could have happened The lane is empty siesta meanders forever among olive trees and tempting almond flowers, but far I see an ominous shadow coming towards me knife in hand. Is he psychopath out to kill someone and not being caught or a Farmer wanting a sample a twig with many flowers to take home to his wife who is preparing the Sunday roast? I stand stock still think of judo – something to do with feet- no point outrunning him bring his undercurrent of hatred to a boil then killing me with the pleasure of the hunt. I pick up a stone he looks tens when passing me I pretend to look at the sky can`t have him plunging his knife into me. He is running now, don`t know why was it the stone in my hand?