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Something Told the Wild Geese
– Rachel Field

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
     Teamed 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.