At first there is a burst of angry, swollen clouds
Trimmed in cherry blossom traces come to swallow the dawn 

Asleep the willows weep of eventful years they've seen 
Fragile fingers long to grasp a moment from their past 

Alone comes a northern song to calm the moment's anguish 
Whispers of the winter's frost from a place one longs to be

The stories of the morning's glories in all its splendid make up 
Of lonely battles man has fought and many victories he has seen 

They settle on the velvet petals of the flowers in the meadow 
As the clouds move on to other lands and morning glistens in the sun