2019 Poetry Contest

2019 Adult Poetry Winning Entry

Abuelita's Garden by Maricela Rocha

I used to follow my abuelita every day,
we went outside onto the garden beds,
we planted and ripped roots with our knees bent,
we touched the floor,
the grass dying its green on our clothes,
the dirt packing into our gloves' little holes.
We wore oversized hats on our small round heads,
they looked funny but they blocked the sun’s rays.

We had this small step leading up to our home where we sat and watched 
the tiny lady bugs that crawled up on our hands to fly away a second later.
There were yellow and orange, green and bright red,
some had polka dots and others lacked them,
but our favorite visitors were always the hummingbirds.
Those tiny birds that looked gentle as petals but could pierce like thorns,
those that radiated beauty with an emerald coat,
that with the flap of their wings at departing reminded us of peacocks,
and made us wish they too would visit our garden.

There were roses, daisies, and flowers I didn't know.
One plant died to grow another but abuelita always knew the right thing to do
to make them stay longer.
Sometimes while we were lost among the flowers,
my mother would tell us to smile,
and I would scoot closer to my abuelita until I heard the camera shutter.
We went to the garden until my grandma looked at the sky
and said it was time to go inside.
Then, the garden became her.