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.

A friend shared the above poem on Facebook recently. It awakened so many memories, so many emotions. It reminded me of why autumn has always been my favorite time of year.

It’s not just the blaze of color that sets its glow to the surrounding scenery. It’s not just the sound of the geese as they travel overhead for their winter domain. The smell of fallen leaves, the crisp cool air, the brilliant skies in the deepest shades of blue are all a part of the magic of fall.

But, it’s much more. Autumn is a time of dying. That sounds like a bad thing, but to me, it’s not. It’s a quiet thing, a time to reflect, to remember the life and buzz and activity of the year gone by. It’s a time to look forward to the dark, the rest of the soul as it recuperates, gathers gentle energy, and renews its strength. Without the dark of winter, the new light … the new life … of spring would not have its day.

Autumn is the season that flies by most swiftly. Although it lasts a quarter of the calendar year, in practice, it’s gone in a flash. The leaves are green and glistening, and suddenly they’re on fire with color. Then they are dead. Then they are gone. You go from waiting for them to change into their fall finery, to wondering how it all happened overnight. The trees stand naked and brown, quietly waiting, resting, renewing. New buds sleep within until the growing light of spring awakens them, and the world begins again.

The blazing brilliance of those couple of weeks of autumn is, to me, the reminder that everything is a part of life. Even death. Nothing exists without change. Autumn brings a brief moment of glory to that reminder, shouting, “I’m here! Look quickly! Feast your senses, and then rest, because change is coming.”

I think I love autumn best because, though it heralds the inevitable dark and cold of winter, it’s also a reminder that within that darkness grows new light. Within the death of the leaves, the departure of the geese, resides life waiting to breathe again, and the return of the creatures and blooms of spring.

Everything changes. The cycle continues. Life grows and thrives, it sleeps and dies, but nothing is gone forever.

The winter comes, the spring buds green, the summer heat simmers….

And autumn will blaze again.