My landlord wakes to a dawn where everything is silent, and even the trees still linger in the unconsciousness of night. Dewy grass dampens his shoes as he strolls out over to his most used patch of land: the garden. The smells are soft and fresh and the rain’s clear drops from the night before are a blanket strung with pearls, that drape over the green leaves of lettuce as he walks over to tend them. A cricket sounds in the strawberries, awakening the rustle of wings, but the bird passes over, gliding on an invisible thread through the air. My landlord’s hands, rough, yet tender in his work, soften the moist earth at the roots of the unwanted, allowing him to pull them up, and let his green, leafy children live on. Alyssum Quaglia, 12Piermont, New York
Poetry-Friends-and-Family
Happiness in the Johnson Family
I smell butter cookies, hot chocolate and the stickiness of sleep As we gallop up the stairs to the family room My brother jumping up and down beside me Like a monkey in his tree-green plaid pajamas The tree is glowing like a pyramid of radium And the presents, mysterious cubes and ovals wrapped in slippery wax wrapping paper The color of fluffy foamy whipped cream I hope to get a new skateboard or a surfboard Or any kind of board that moves I imagine tearing through the boxes to discover the treasure within We stare at our thumbs as we wait as impatiently as dogs about to be fed For my parents to wake up so we can open presents But we only hear our dad snoring As loud as the howl of the wind on a crisp, cold winter night But then we turn around and see our rumply tousled parents in the pine-scented hallway “You can open your presents now,” they say With smiles as wide as two slivers of the moon “Finally!” my brother and I shout as we rush towards the pile of mysterious presents In the boxes I find root-beer-scented surf wax A black leash to hold me to my surfboard and my surfboard to me And foamy grip tape to help me from slipping off the board And as I hear my mom’s gracefull laughter As she watches my brother bounce around the living room With a ribbon tied around his legs and arms as if he were a present I feel cozy in a blanket of happiness and love Colin Johnson, 11Laguna Beach, California
If Only I Could
If only I could help the world. I would like to get bad people and teach them how to be nice. If only I could fly and help people with their feelings, and stop them from killing people that are trying really hard to help us all to be good people and nice and kind to others like us who come from a different country. If only I could help my family from Haiti and us too. I would make them feel welcome to the new country we live in now. If only I could talk to them. I would say welcome and how is Haiti? How is it there? If only I could ask Mom and Dad a question in Creole. I would ask, “Did you miss me and Ericka and Ruth, Mom and Dad?” If only I could go back and save my best friend from the orphanage. I would be so happy for the children because their birth families get them back! I would give them to their new family that was waiting for them a long time. If only I could help the world. I would like to get people and teach them how to be nice. If only I could… Rickza is a Haitian-American, adopted by her mom, Ruth, and living in the United States with her sister since July of 2013. Rickza Kerr, 11Seattle, Washington
