The geese now gather wheresoe'er they will;
They note the changing color of the trees,
And brace as frost, forthcoming, comes to kill
Blood sucking acrobats, proboscides.
The blackbirds, wheeling, clad with baby fat,
Unable to endure nocturnal cold,
Head south, but swoop, as one, to chase the cat,
So drunk on sun that he could pass as bold.
The geese, though grazing, stop to check the sky.
They antsy, now, yet buy a little time -
Their wings, heat trapping, strong, prepared to fly,
Shall soon convey them to a milder clime.
The anxious geese, so near a favored pond,
But store more fat as they, hobnobbing, bond.