Sagging Quotes - Page 2

• 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.

  Rachel Field

  Summer, Winter, Autumn

  Rachel Field (1934). “Branches Green”

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