| SOMETHING TOLD THE WILD GEESE Something told the wild geese It was time to go. Though the field lay golden Something whispered "Snow". Leaves were green and stirring, Berries, lustre-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. Author: Rachel Field |
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| Page created by Ryette October 2002 Reviewed Jan. 2004 |
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