what told the wild geese to fly
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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.
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By Rachel Lyman Field
This is a poem about geese and how they know they have to fly away to warmer lands during winter. It is autumn. The fields are ripe with golden corn, leaves are still green and orchards are filled with yellowish orange fruit. Yet the geese know intuitively that autumn will lead to winter.
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