When autumn arrives,

The birds start to soar,

None as high or far,

As the geese migrating.

Miles and miles,

Their shadows stroking the ground,

The birds leaping through clouds,

Reaching for stars and touching the sun.

Yet how far can a bird fly,

Before they start to falter,

To wane and whine and wail,

As the destination never nears?

Because of this,

Geese never migrate alone,

They fly in a V,

As they venture from their home.

When one goose tires,

They ride the current of the another,

So when their own wings fail,

They soar with the wind of others.