Something Told the Wild Geese
Rachel Field
Something told the wild geese
It was time to go,
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, "snow."
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."
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned, "frost."
All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spices,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.
Steamed with amber spices,
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.
It was time to fly,
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.
Source: Google Images
A poetic offering of my own...
ReplyDeleteI’m surprised this morning
by noticing how much sound
guides me through the seasons
How the tone of the crickets changes
as we reach late summer
and the sounds of
chickadees
and
titmice
is more present
My ears listen
for the sounds
of geese on the move
to tell me
that fall is coming
and the days of
insect song
are ending
dipping us into
the near silence of winter
wind and snow and
birdsong in droplets
of sound
morning and evening
I’m surprised this morning
to notice how much
words needed to move
through me
and into the world
like the season of listening
and gathering ideas
is over
and now
the wordscapes will flow.
© 2011 Tracie Nichols
mmmmm, Tracie, what a gift. Thank you for sharing these glorious words. Sounds soothe us into each season...announcing the change, indeed. This reflection touches my heart. Keep sharing!
ReplyDelete