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
–
Read more »
Created by rajesh kumawat
15 hours 38 min ago – Made popular 14 hours 17 min ago
Posted in: Environment
Tags: