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. 

Rachel Lyman Field