Blue Mountain Arts Poetry Contest

In the backyard with grandpa
by Thien-Y Nguyen

THirty-SEVENTH
Contest
SECOND Place

Spring in the backyard means fairy circles,
drinking in sweet April showers,
dancing amongst the North American irises,
and itchy grass tickling my curious toes.
Grandpa is there, too,
spade in hand,
planting seeds in the damp earth.

In summer we pick ripened Meyer lemons
and pretend that we are settlers on the frontier.
Grandpa and I pull at mischievous weeds,
and I learn how to use the lawnmower.
Tanned ankles, glossy brows, sunshine sickness.
Summer in the backyard was work,
but there are lemons waiting to be juiced into lemonade.

When the leaves start to fall,
Grandpa and I rake them up and make a fire.
There’s chicory in the grass
and an autumn breeze in the air.
The wind spurs the symphony of wind chimes
into a stunning accelerando.
I take some chicory with me
and brew a mug of chicory roast
for my grandpa.

Grandpa stays inside during the winter,
and I see him all wrapped up in fleece blankets.
We don’t get any snow but there is frost;
and the frost nips.
It nips at the fairy circles and the lemon tree
and at my grandpa too.
In the winter there is nothing for us to do
but look outside through white tinted windows,
as grandpa and I wait for spring.

After many winters
I return to the backyard,
and walk on overgrown grass
to the spot where I once made my house on the prairie,
and there I think to myself,
if only I could be perennial,
plant my roots here for all seasons,
blooming through rain and through snow
in the backyard,
together with grandpa.

About the Author

Thien-Y Nguyen is a seventeen-year-old from Slidell, Louisiana, and will be a member of the Tulane University class of 2025. Legend has it that she will magically materialize at the mention of green banker lamps, coffee-flavored desserts, or heart-shaped jewelry.