Squirrels

Squirrel The leaves and branches of the oak
Flutter and spring,
I wonder why as there is no breeze,
The rainy morning has becalmed.

Then gray squirrels
Descend from the tree,
One, two, three.
They scamper away
Each in a different direction.

Only to return and leap
Up the trunk and out
Onto the ends of the branches,
Bouncing and swaying
Like children playing and swinging.

Now I see them biting off
Acorns and pouching them,
Working to acquire tasty nuts,
Before running back into the woods
To hide their treasures.

I never knew squirrels
Picked acorns,
Before, I had only seen them
Gathering from the ground.

Something new to me,
Delighted at the discovery
I filed this incident under ‘Squirrels’,
And sat still on the porch,
One quiet morning in October.

Cerita M. Hewett
October 23, 2015

Polished Sandhill Crane

sand hill craneA polished sandhill crane
Stands on the table of my room,
White Tail-feathers nearly brush the ground,
Slender feet sustain it carefully,
As though ‘twould walk quite soon,
Beneath the long and gracious neck,
Shines out an oval spot of brown.

Her beak,
Like an ivory needle gently drawn high,
Attracts my eyelids upward from the earth,
Stretching gladly toward the pale blue sky.
My spirit seems to soar with a new birth.

The one who carved you
From that discarded horn,
Made you to match his lofty thought,
Through his delightful toil,
Your life was born,
By his sincerity
A thing of beauty wrought.

You stand there doing nothing,
Bending not a knee,
Still in your shaping
A heart gave,
Now looking
Uplifts me.

Cerita Marie Moore
January 4, 1966

That’s Love to Me

That's what love is
What is love to me?

I’m not sure – I can’t describe it in words

But I think I see my sister’s face, smiling when I tell a joke

My brother’s arms around me every morning before school 

Dad making my lunch because I’m too tired

Mom listening to my worries while she quietly bears her own

My baby sister’s giggle when I chase her around the house

Another sister’s eyes that light up when i talk to her

My cat’s purr as I scratch his chin. . . 

That’s love to me.

 

by Lenae Shelton, age 16

 

Sleep (by Elena, 11yrs)

Sleepy Little Girl Having

Joy, peace, calming air fills my lungs
In the light and beauty surrounding me.
Listening to my heart thumping out a rhythm,
Slow and sleepy
Like a bear in hibernation.
The lids of my eyes hang low
Cutting out the brilliant light.
Slowly, like turtles crawling up onto a log,
Sleep overcomes my inner will.
Sleeping, rocking slowly.
Sleep.

Elena Hewett
Oct 2015

Gaurdians

               Stray Dogs

                 The dogs in our neighborhood
                 Take very seriously their jobs.
                 Perhaps it is because there seems
                 To be so few of them in Guayaquil.

                  We rarely see them in the daytime,
                  And only hear them as we lie in bed,
                  On nights when our minds are over active,
                  Wishing for the sweet refreshment of sound sleep.
                  Then it seems the chorus begins.

                  Woof, woof!
                  Oooo, oooo!
                  Arf, arf, arf!
                  Rrrrr, rrrr!
                  Owoo, Owoo, Owoo!
                  Close and distant they holler.

                  I wonder,   “Are they talking to each other?
                  Is a rat running across their patio?
                  Perhaps a cat slurks along the top of a nearby wall?
                  Has a well known thief entered the garden?
                  Is some old dog ill?
                  Has there been a death in the community?
                  Did their retirement fund collapse?
                  Or are they debating some compelling political question?” 

                  At last their conversation ceases.
                  Perhaps the danger passes,
                  Possibly their pain or sorrow is soothed,
                  Perchance a truce or concession comes to pass.
                  At last night-quiet peace reigns supreme once more. 

                  We remain awake, alas awake,
                  Quiet, yet awake,
                  Musing over all the possibilities.

                                                                                      Cerita M. Hewett
                                                                                      April 29, 2009
                                                                                      (revised 2014)

Contradictions

Ecuador, Ethnic Latin Woman

                 Ocean, rivers, desert,
                       Verdant mountains, volcanic rock,
                                    Tropical jungle,
                  Whales – millipedes.
                           Humming birds – great parrots,
                  Changing surfaces – changing people.

 

                  Large cities – tiny villages,
                           Supermarkets – open markets,
                                    Stairwell shops – modern malls,
                  Sidewalk cafes – food courts,
                           Street venders – department stores
                  Flower gardens – dirt yards.

 

                  Painted and unpainted homes dot the land
                           Mansions, high-rise apartments,
                                    Cinderblock, adobe, cardboard dwellings and huts,
                  Painted gray and black by the earth,
                           Or by cheerful people
                  Green, pink, orange, or blue.

 

                  Cement highways – dirt streets – narrow pathways,
                           People riding in cars, airplanes, buses,
                                    Trains, vans, pickups,
                  Ships, boats, dugouts,
                           Or on burros and horses,
                  Some walking, walking, walking.

 

                  Agile young soccer players competing on dirt,
                           Cement, or sparse yellow grass surfaces,
                                    And on sandy beaches,
                  Professionals playing in giant
                           Manicured stadiums,
                 Cripples with canes, crutches, wheelchairs.

 

                  People spread across the land
                           Smiling young faces with sparkling white teeth,
                                    Sober, wrinkled, toothless, faces.
                  Crying babies, shouting venders, whispering breezes,
                           Brass bands – classical orchestras,

 

                  Traditions of home learning,
                           Training from the fathers and ancients,
                  Schools of private or public education.

 

                  Men, women, and children working the land,
                  Terraced corn, beans, and potato patches,
                                    Spacious rice paddies – Cane fields,
                  Banana plantations.

 

                  People filling shops and offices,
                           Wearing jeans, suits, or native dress.
                                    Living off the land,
                                             Living off the streets,
                  Clean and dirty.

 

                  Tourists looking on,
                           Old people looking back,
                                    Young people looking forward!

 

                  Ecuador, a land of contradictions,
                           Ecuador, a land in flux,
                                    A place to live, love, and serve.

 

                                                                       Epilogue

 
                  Traveling we experienced something of this land’s
                           Ugliness and beauty,
                                    Sound and silence,
                  Perfume and odor.

 

                  Then we returned to the peace,
                           The studied formal gardens,
                                    The refuge of the temple grounds,
                  Here we found the same peace
                           That the people of this land find as
                                    They come one by one
                                             Family by family,
                   To worship in our Father’s house!

                                                            Cerita M. Hewett
                                                            August 16, 2009
                                                            (revised Oct. 2014)

Cows in Summer

A pretty bovine hanging out in a green pasture

                        The wide eyed brown and white cows,
                        With their heads bowed down,
                        Drink from the little irrigation ditch.

                        Switch their tails skillfully
                        To dislodge biting black flies.

                        Extrude long strings of slobber,
                        Which look like fishing line.

                        The wisps are wafted away
                        As the summer breeze
                        Catches hold of them.

                        It hangs the silver strands on
                        Tall browning Indian tobacco weed,
                        At the edge of the water.

                        Creating a sparkling summer Christmas tree.

                                                                             Cerita M. Hewett                                                                                         July 2002 (revised 2014)

Little Yellow Bird

Bird

You picked a stem of grass

Longer than your body,

Heavy laden with seed.

 

Flapping your wings and

Giving a little jump with your tiny legs,

You attempted a quick take-off,

But could not get airborne.

 

Resting a moment still holding the grass,

Not giving up on that important load,

You took a few running steps and

Flew to your nest.

                                                                               
                                                                                Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                                    April 14, 2009

                                                                                    (revised 2014)

Family Breakfast

robin stretching a worm

Early this morning as I was walking,

A dainty rust colored bird was already,

Fixing breakfast for her family.

 

From the damp green lawn,

She tugged and extracted

A long brown worm.

 

Adjusting it in her mouth,

And vigorously flapping her wings,

She flew off to her nest.

 

The worm dangled in the morning air,

His fate settled by the determination

Of a mother feeding her hungry family.

 

Our grandchildren love waffles,

Crepes, bacon, and eggs,

Can ‘worm’ be as delicious to little birds?

                                                      Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                 June 2009

Thanks and Gobblers

(Thanks)

For butterfly wings and fluffy clouds,

                                    For sweet rose scent and tangy pickle juice,

                                                      For craggy rocks and soft warm sand,

                           For children’s hands.

                                    I thank thee Lord!

                                                                                    Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                                    (revised 2014)

 

(Gobblers)

 The great turkey gobbler makes a noise!

                           He gobbles at the girls.

                           He gobbles at the boys.

 

                           Though we run away from all that squabble,

                           We laugh until we nearly wobble,

                           Cause soon we’ll be the ones that gobbles!

                                                                                                                        Cerita M. Moore

                                                                                                                        About 1961