Burning wood

Quiet nights And the midnight stray dogs that bark The scent of burning wood Clay pots and runny rice On a stove made of fine earth I’m wearing my favorite cotton dress And peeking out the open window railings While the cool breeze touches my face Unlocking my heart There’s the lingering scent from grandma’sContinue reading “Burning wood”

A conversation to remember

Months ago, my always smiling late grandma had said, “Look at you nani, gazing deeply elsewhere. What profound things you must be thinking of.” And in complete honesty, I had explained, “Not really ama, I’m not thinking about anything at all. I’m actually just looking at the wall.”