There is rage beyond the rain
But there is peace in quiet
The mountain is still this morning
But it softly whispers of the rage
There was lightning in the night
Cracking jagged whips of fire
That turned the maple’s faces white
Now birds sing quietly to the dawn
The hard has worn the morning tender
The rough rubbing of the fearful night
Now the sun will bake day clean and
We’ll see what’s strong enough to survive.
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