I've a good feeling at dawn.
The trees have some strange music,
and as a breeze plays with them, they sing 
                          their song.

Kites and bikes, and all good things.
Albion's sun warms us all,
while roaring and hot white, it dives to
                       the west.

Smaller arms, tickled by cold.
Larger ones wrapped around them,
this is where I live today, this is
                       my home.