Something told the wild geeseIt was time to go,Though the fields lay goldenSomething whispered, âSnow.â
Leaves were green and stirring,Berries, lustre-glossed,But beneath warm feathersSomething cautioned, âFrost.â
All the sagging orchardsSteamed with amber spice,But each wild breast stiffenedAt remembered ice.
Something told the wild geeseIt was time to fly,Summer sun was on their wings,Winter in their cry.
DID YOU KNOW?
In autumn, thousands of geese fly south to find food and warmth. Some travel from Greenland, Canada and Siberia in an amazing V formation. Look out for them in the sky!âŠ