Personal note: One of the valuable aspects of living in the Northeast is the presence of distinct, beautiful seasons. In Maine, some of them are fleeting, such as Spring, but treasuring them leaves one open to certain poems that express their flavor, or single crystalline thoughts about them. This is one of the latter. When I first encountered it, the last two lines raised the hair on the back of my neck.

Something Told the Wild Geese
Rachel Field

See also the printable, pocketable PDF
and the vocal presentation
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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.