Too Soon
Questions rise, when every year
An instinct tells them Autumn's near
A sign of season's sad farewell
They form in arrows, numbers swell
In summer breezes, cool of night
Against pink skies, with wings in flight
Familiar landmarks they recall
A southern path, a time to go
They know the way, when autumn calls
A calling voice that we don't know
The geese take wing, their journey starts
How sad I am to see them part
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
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