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 Field, Something Told the Wild Geese, Child Life, Oct. 1934