Something told the wild geese

            Twilight descends not long after my return from work these days. While the dogs and I trod the dimming fields this evening, a sound slowly wended its way into my brain. A flock of geese passed high overhead, calling out to each other. I watched them waver through several Vs and semi-Vs, trading places, disappearing into a cloud…
            The sound of their cries evokes the moving inward, the bracing, the melancholy of late fall. For me, another layer of resonance is Rachel Field, who thrilled at the haunting sights and sounds of autumnal shift. As you read Rachel’s poem, I recommend that you listen to the gorgeous choral adaptation someone produced a few years ago, posted below.
 
Something Told the Wild Geese
            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.
 
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 63: 193 words, TOTAL = 10,333; 49,667 remaining




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