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
3 Comments
Elizabeth Clifford
10/29/2019 08:42:04 pm
Love this. Pretty choir song too.
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Alan Arbo
10/29/2019 09:47:10 pm
I sense someone channeling Rachel Field....cue the wild geese!
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Robin
11/1/2019 10:27:21 am
Heading out there today to tuck the place in for winter!
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AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs. Archives
October 2024
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