Something Told The Wild Geese

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.

Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered,--"Snow."

Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,

But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned,--"Frost."

All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,

But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly,--

Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

by Rachel Field