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.
Though the fields lay golden,
Something whispered, --"Snow."
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Berries, luster-glossed
But beneath warm feathers,
Something cautioned, --"Frost."
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Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.
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It was time to fly,--
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Winter in their cry.
Photography by Erin Dale, ©2009
"Something Told the Wild Geese," by Rachel Field
"Something Told the Wild Geese," by Rachel Field
1 comment:
Ooh, I love these photos! I've never seen waterfowl on ice before; this is really a lovely scene :)
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