The Bridge

A group of goats
crossed the same bridge
every day.

The bridge was old.
The wood bent
under their weight.

Each step made it creak.

The goats noticed this.

But they crossed together,
and that made them feel safe.

So they learned to walk slowly.
Carefully.
One after another.

No one liked the bridge.

But no one searched
for another way.

Whenever a goat hesitated,
it looked at the others.

They were still crossing.
Still calm.

So it continued too.

After a while,
the goats stopped speaking
about the bridge at all.

One morning,
while they were crossing,
a wolf appeared
from the trees.

The goats panicked.

Some rushed forward.
Some turned back.

The line broke apart.

The bridge shook violently
under their steps.

Then came a loud crack.

The wood split beneath them.

Goats stumbled
into one another.

Some fell
into the river below.

The ones at the back
could not escape in time.

After that day,
the goats no longer
crossed together.

Some blamed
the ones who ran.

Some blamed
the ones who stopped.

Some blamed
the bridge.

But none of them
trusted the herd
the same way again.