Wednesday, November 17, 2021

Beneath Warm Feathers

The snow has finally come. Little girl giggles and squeals of delight lead us outside to wander the yard, excitedly watching it transform into its magical wonderland. Sparkling snowflakes landed in all sorts of odd places, adding beauty to the unkept corners. The snowy blanket really does make the odd sculptures of branches and blossoms stand out! We stayed outside until duties called us inward, but we continued to watch the snow fall until it was time for bed. 

A poem popped into my head that evening, one I read many years ago. About geese and how they always know when to fly home. I wrote half of it down and placed it in Bug's lunchbox, noting that I would continue the other half the following day. 

The next morning, I awoke and was blessed when I went out to shovel the snow. About half way through the job, such sad, mournful calls filled my ear from overhead. Geese on their way to their summer homes. Not just one flock, but many, in various party sizes. They flew above me and all I could do was stare. Didn't that poem just come back to me yesterday? Their calls usually make me tear up this time of year, but instead I smiled. The scene felt so peaceful and I lovingly wished them a safe journey onwards. To warmer weather and better times! 

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." 
I wrote about this poem back in 2015. It's funny the things that come back to me after so many years. 

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