Magnus Grace

Humid air drifts through the streets

Carrying the scent of damp leaves

The birds sing songs of joy 

While gathering food for their young

Flowers begin to sprout among the grass and moss

Pride of bovine kind

Wanderer of the mountains 

None could best a yak

On the windowsill 

He sat, 

Staring at the sky, 

Writing words 

Known only in his head, 

Leaning against a reflection, 

Watching the moon, 

Far to the east

The waterfall flows
 

A wellspring of life

As everyone knows
 

Beneath the cliffs

It washes away strife
 

Bringing to hearts

A joyous light

Based on the poem "This is just to say" by William Carlos Williams. 

I have drunk 

the tea 

that was on 

the counter 

and which

I’ve always loved

The feeling of falling
 

But being dragged down

Is different
 

Feeling unbalanced

Lost
 

Losing control

As life speeds by
 

Feeling helpless