It Might Have Happened Like This

The wind came early that year, bringing with it the spring that never ended. Flowers bloomed as never before. Fruit soon followed. Sweet, succulent and intoxicating delights drenched beards or bodices of all who partook of it. Everyone enjoyed the sunny days and refreshing nights. When the wind went its way, they all waited for spring to give way to summer. It did not. Some thought spring might pass directly to fall. It did not. Winter never came either. People enjoyed the fruit while it lasted. They enjoyed the weather as well—for a time. Then some became unsettled. Cranky even. “It’s not normal,” they said.

At first just a few talked of leaving. Then they did. Soon others followed. Eventually, only a goat remained. He ate what fruit remnants the town’s people left behind. Then he too moved on, to a town whose seasons still came and went. He stopped at St. Cecilia’s Rectory when he saw a man smoking. A man he could follow–which he did.


 Read the short piece by James Tate that inspired this post. You will enjoy it.

3 thoughts on “It Might Have Happened Like This

    1. Thanks! I am not very knowledgeable about poetry so I am somewhat surprised that Tate’s very interesting piece is called poetry. Free verse, I guess, is what it must be. But it is quite a remarkable bit of writing to my mind. I hope you read it as well.

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