Something Told the Wild Geese

Something told the wild geese163959386a7aeac5e4fe949444b01a0d
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.

Rachel Field, born this day in 1894

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