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Good Morning, Yard
Crisp grass, dew sprinkled.
The weeds grown high and tickle my legs.
The sun warms the grass, the pavement,
my face, warms my face. Wind whips
the air; trees shiver and twitch.
It is early morning; a neighbor’s baby cries
and whines. A dog barks loudly.
Someone shouts, “Shush!”
The breeze returns, caressing my hair.
Bringing the sweet and spicy aromas of
my grandmother’s cooking
from the house to the yard.
Eggs, lonaganisa, adobo, kare- kare, pinakbet.
The smells reach my nose,
taunting it, calling it.
I can almost taste it,
the tastes lingering on my tongue.
An alarm goes off in my brain.
“Frishan! Kumain na ngayon!”
I rush inside to my second home.
by Frishan Paulo
7th grade, `Iolani School
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