Before the First Frost
Whispers could be heard
Beneath the leaves
The ones fallen seasons ago
When there was no reason
To believe time would ever end
Softly worded thoughts
Seemed to travel close to home
Yet when trying to pinpoint
The source it became clear
It was something universal
Out of disharmony beautiful
Music seemingly appeared
Played by angels pretending
To be popular nestled
Comfortably in the backyard
On a cool autumn evening
march, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
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jdubqca 
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Thanks for linking my poem to your blog, Lydia.
You’re welcome! I’ve been wandering through your archives recently and finding some great stuff. 🙂
I’m elated that you think so – you are most welcome to wander anytime…thank you once again!
lovely words my friend!
many thanks, Neha!