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 whispered-"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~