Magnus Grace

The beginners of the beat,

Just learning the ropes,

Figuring out their instruments -

They come in, 

Wide-eyed,

And regard the older kids

With awe.

I love to be looked at this way

A grandmother bakes

A batch of warm cookies

Peppered with butterscotch chips,

A chocolate kiss pressed in the center,

For her grandchildren

Do you ever grieve something

that isn't even over yet?

It's like you know

that's it's going to be gone anyway,

that you're going to miss it

so much,

It's been two years

Since I moved here

One year

Since I called it my home

Home is the place

With more dirt roads

Than paved

And the dirt roads

Carry the name

Of your friend's grandfather

What used to be my everything 

has now turned into what feels almost like a burden. 

I talked to a tree just the other day, I was walking past and it did say,  

Well, what are you? 

Just a traveler. 

But what are you? 

Why, a human, of course, you didn’t know?