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Something Told The Wild Geese

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Something told the wild geese It was time to go. Though the fields lay golden Something whispered,โ€”'Snow.' Leaves were green and stirring, Berries, luster-glossed, But beneath warm feathers Something cautioned,โ€”'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,โ€” Summer sun was on their wings, Winter in their cry.