La Uva
I packed a bag of grapes into her lunch.
My hands resembled his, though not as worn;
they brought me back to what he told me once,
just days before my little girl was born.
…
“Ay, mijo, come outside,” my grandpa said.
He swung the screen door open, clacking closed.
The rays of amber sunlight reached and spread
across the leafy heads of vineyard rows.
His crooked fingers gripped a cluster’s stem.
He plucked a grape and offered, “Prueba esto.”
And when I bit into that emerald gem,
it popped with tangy juice. “It’s good, Abuelo.”
“Escucha, mijo. Mira why it’s good.”
He paused. “You’re gonna have a niña, ¿no?”
“Verdad,” I said. His smile understood.
“Regalo, mijo. Raise her like las uvas grow.”
In slanting light, his copper skin was gold.
He said, “A niña needs to feel amor,
como las uvas, they necesitan sol—
pero they spoil con demasiado calor.”
He squatted, brushed his hand atop the earth,
and gazed aside—a heavy, distant stare.
My throat grew dry, like I could taste the dirt
that drifted on the vineyard’s herbal air.
“You’ll want to give her everything… yo sé.
She doesn’t need the perfect ground abajo.
Tierra dura, you get strong roots that way.
La buena uva viene del trabajo.”
He drew the clippers hanging from his belt
with ease, as he had done a thousand times,
then thumbed a leaf to rub its downy felt.
He snipped a branch upon a wayward vine.
“A veces prune her back; a veces wait.
And let her grow—her way—you guide la viña.
How tu abuelo grows the sweetest grapes
is how el papi grows la buena niña.”
…
“Ay, mija, come inside and taste this.”
The kitchen floor received her gentle feet.
The grape was plump; its juices cold and crisp.
I asked her, “How does something grow so sweet?”
Glossary of Spanish Words
-la uva/las uvas – “the grape/the grapes”
-ay mijo/ay mija – affectionate expression for “oh son/oh daughter”
-prueba esto – “taste this/try this”
-abuelo – “grandpa”
-escucha – “listen”
-mira – “look/see”
-niña – “little girl/girl”
-verdad – “truth/true/right?”
-regalo – “a gift/a blessing”
-amor – “love/my love”
-como – “like/as”
-necesita sol – “needs sun”
-necesitan sol – “need sun”
-pero – “but”
-con demasiado calor – “with too much heat”
-yo sé – “I know/I understand”
-abajo – “below/down below”
-tierra dura – “hard ground/hard soil”
-La buena uva viene del trabajo – “Good grapes come from work.”
-a veces – “sometimes”
-la viña – “the vineyard/the grapevine”
-tu – “your”
-tú – “you”
-el papi – “Daddy/Dad”
-la buena niña – “the good girl/the well-behaved girl”
Michael Pietrack is a poet based in Grand Junction, Colorado. He is known for his narrative poetry and novels written in verse, including Legacy: The Saga Begins (2023) and Boone (2026). He has placed three times in the Society of Classical Poets International Competition with “Ballerina,” “The Loons of Colby Lake,” and “Grindstone.”







A very touching poem, Michael – very sweet indeed – and good to brush up on my Spanish!
Thank you, James. You are always so encouraging. I’m in a difficult phase of raising teenage daughters, and most of the old farmer’s advice, I need to apply, especially to let them grow “their way” and to guide them versus force them. I’m finding it difficult. Thanks again for the note.
Thank you. As always amazing.
Having raised two daughters, I am moved by the wisdom.
Such a beautiful story and verse. Thank you for sharing this. The weaving of two languages was skillfully done, and I was glad I still had enough Spanish in me to translate as I read.