Collaboration

Solo S’mores

smore1 smores2I made s’mores in the
Microwave today,
By myself,
Graham crackers—chocolate—marshmallows,
Leftovers from a family picnic,
Though I admit to buying more chocolate.

It took only milliseconds
For the marshmallows to swell and soften,
The chocolate to wobble and spread,
All the ingredients were present
For the anticipated sweetness.

Yet there was not much satisfaction,
Without red coals burning,
Marshmallow flame outs,
Children laughing,
Grown-ups talking,
Cool evening air,
And each of you there!

Cerita M. Hewett
October 2008

Weaving (For Lenae & Collin)

weaving
On this bright October Saturday,
Horns flashed,
Drums rap-a-tap tapped,
The light breeze carried music.

As if alive,
It rolled like a crimson sunset wave
Turned back upon itself,
Weaved in and out,
Stretched forward and backward.

Forward, backward, diagonal,
Playing and marching,
Spreading wings then folding them,
Swelling and ebbing as an ocean,
Unfurling flags in unison,
A stirring tapestry upon a green field.

Cerita M. Hewett
October 18, 2015

Home Building

homeA family working together,
Caring for a house and yard,
Grow muscles and
Bind themselves together,
Singing, praying, caring,
Creating a unique life,
Living life,
Eating mixed up taco salad,
Roasting hot dogs and marshmallows,
Mowing, weeding, vacuuming,
Painting, papering, roofing,
Making a house a home,
Never to be forgotten,
Yet moving out and moving on,
Taking with them the lessons learned.

Cerita M. Hewett
Summer 2014

Lessons From Leslie

lessonsI don’t know how many hours you sat
Beside our children at our old upright,
The one with missing key tops,
Listening to them struggle through
Their pieces for the week,
Pieces they sometimes practiced,
Still you taught the what they
Were ready to learn,
Making it fun,
No matter their talent or preparation,
Helping them to love music,
Affirming them
Not condemning their feeble attempts,
Coming to our house week after week,
Letting us work off the lessons
Or pay as we could,
Giving our children music when it was needed,
Not when we could afford it,
Music to last a lifetime,
Music for the good times and the bad,
Music written on their souls because
It was taught with love,

Cerita M. Hewett
December 2002

Box of Happiness

Valentine ChocolatesYou brought a heart-shaped box of chocolates,
I don’t remember you doing this before,
It was the perfect gift this year
After so much sacrifice and service.

I opened it,
We smelled its richness,
We read all the descriptions of each specialty,
Peanut cluster, mint, caramel, pecan, vanilla nugget,

Then I suggested we each pick one to eat,
You remarked, “I bought them for you.”
I answered, “Eating alone is no fun.”

We each ate three,
Laughing, reveling, declaring their goodness,
Savoring the shared valentine moment.

Reluctantly we closed the glossy lid,
I washed the supper dishes in the glow of
Our heart-felt box of chocolate happiness.

 

Cerita M. Hewett
Feb. 14, 2013
Revised 2014

Painting With Leaves

painting

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday evening the grand children and I
Went for a walk in our woods,
The forest was quiet,
The pine needles deep and soft beneath our feet,
Some of the deciduous leaves had begun to
Turn colors and fall to the forest floor,
The girls kept giggling and dancing about
Like children having been let out of church,
I kept feeling Elena and then Isabel
Touch the back of my sweater,
I couldn’t see what was happening but
I knew they were putting something,
On my fuzzy sweater vest,

Finally at the house after a photo,
I was able to see their work,
My back was a beautiful leaf painting!

                                                                                 Cerita M. Hewett
                                                                                    Nov. 7, 2011

Cobweb Sweeper (for Edward)

forest running                                    The runner who
                                    Sweeps the cobwebs,
                                    On the paths through the woods,
                                    Before the dawn comes,
                                    Is on vacation.

                                    So the feathery,
                                    Sticky lines,
                                    Hit my face as
                                    I walk through the daylight woods.

                                    I held a twiggy
                                    Branch aloft,
                                    In front of my face today,
                                    To clear them for myself.

                                    My how it changed
                                    My view of the woods.
                                    It was like looking,
                                    Through a cracked
                                    Window pane.

                                    Every vista fractured
                                    By scraggy lines.
                                    But then my face
                                    Was protected and free of webs.

                                     I will be glad when
                                    The dashing cobweb sweeper,
                                    Returns to the forest.

                                                               Cerita M. Hewett
                                                               July 2014
                                                               (revised October 2014)

 

Harvest

                                          We ate thick vegetable soup,

                                          Sitting on the retaining wall,

                                          In the backyard.

                                         Plump piles of leaves

                                         Waited to be mower mulched,

                                         And wheel barreled to the garden,

                                         While we shared cracker,

                                        A kiwi,

                                       An apple.

 

                                     Sun soaked and work warmed,

                                     We talked of pecan harvest,

                                    Grown children,

                                    And Thanksgiving.

 

                                   Neither spoke of love,

                                  But we gathered it anyway.

                                                                                           Cerita M. Hewlett

                                                                                          December 3, 1997

Composting

                                       Ed’s little family can
                                       Eat half a watermelon
                                       In nothing flat!

                                       They chew all the pink off the rind,
                                       Leaving just a little white
                                       Next to the dark green shell.

                                       What Applejacks the pony gets is pitiful,
                                       Still he eagerly gobbles the leavings and
                                       The chickens snatch anything he misses.
                                                                                                Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                                                August 2011

So Here I Am

Responding to family and suggestions from religious leaders, I am creating a facebook account and a blog. This will be an interesting journey for one who has lived three score and fifteen years. Since all that is posted on the internet seems to remain eternally, I will consider somewhat carefully what I post and yet I want to be true to my best self. Some of the pieces chosen were written long ago and some are recent.

A day without poetry is a sad day, yet I do not sit down  every day and read a volume of poetry. Rather I notice it as it occurs naturally around me in phrases of children, songs, hymns, books, magazines, and the speech that surrounds me. And yes, I do take time to read poetry along the way because I love its sound and how it helps me perceive the world around me more clearly.

I really do not consider myself to be a poet, rather someone who enjoys shortened text. If something I write turns out to be poetic that is a pleasant surprise! I write to record, to remember experiences, and to have the deeper meaning of these happenings exposed to view.  Looking back on what I have written through the years, the rich blessings received and the optimism of my life is quite evident.

My hope is that something here will bring a smile and will remind someone of the greatness and vitality of everyday life here on earth as children of a loving Heavenly Father. That we will all find greater joy as we we travel along together learning, laughing, crying, and appreciating the importance of our common Earth life and God given experiences.

Cerita M. Hewett                                                                      October 9, 2014