The trees are decorated with yellow
Most flowers have gone to rest
The dewy spring grass is covered,
with a fresh blanket of crisp brown

You can hear them whisper
As you walk to a new school year
A symphony of suddle beauty,
played by the world’s finest orchestra

What they speak of cannot be written down
Not by pen nor artist’s brush
But it sounds of gold so divine,
that even of Midas jealousy would behold

None claim to hear it
Nearly all don’t know it exists
They busy themselves with the obvious,
and so, don’t know what they miss

Beauty is so often overlooked
Shiny Porsches steal the show
As they speed by, radio blasting loud,
few would ever care to know

The mighty ocean seems humble when compared
Airplanes would stop mid-flight at its discovery
That which everyone, and no one, can hear,
the secrets of the autumn leaves