by Rachel Field
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.
from A Family of Poems: My Favorite Poetry for Children
Selected by Caroline Kennedy
Hyperion, 2005
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