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 war fethers,
Something whispered, "forest".
All the4 sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spicer
But each wild breast stiffened
At remember ice.
Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly-
Summer sun was on their wings
Winter in their cry

Written by-
Rechel field