The leaves of autumn seem to glow
In shades of butter gold and sun.
But when the snow begins to fall,
Know that winter has begun.
The mountain clouds grow silver cold,
The children dance to North Wind's tune,
And the lakes and rivers spark
Beneath the smile of the moon.
Angry spirits start to stir,
They howl and rage with blizzards' might.
Attempts to placate any thing
Will only lead to sleep this night.
When morning comes, the sun returns,
And the springtime lifts its head.
The flowers bloom and meadows sing
In a tribute to the dead.