Mother Goose!

When days aren't much brighter than the nights
And all the nimbi ceaselessly blow
I long for the geese on their northern flights
As tonic for doldrums felt here below.

I've long betook from altitonant birds
A fervid sense of their hankering roam
Whereby I try to think of the words
That might call magnetoreception...Home.

Imagine a compass stuck in your nose
To help sniff out antipodean trips
And thereby find where the goose feed grows
Saving the flock from apocalypse!

Yet what grub powers the copious flaps
That lets them circle a planet in laps?