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

Blue Teeth

IMG_6088The first blueberries go
Plink, plink, plink,
But after the bottom of the
Pail is covered,
We can barely hear the
Soft plop, plop, plop.

The bushes lose their blues,
But our white teeth turn azure.
In the nearby rows,
The children pick, eat, and play.
The sun warms up,
So we pick on the shady side,
Plop, plop, plop, plop, plop.

At eleven o’clock we
We take off our hats,
Wipe our brows,
Weigh out.
Licking our blue teeth we start for home.
Sweetly ever so sweetly.
It is a good thing that
They only weigh the fruit.

Cerita M. Hewett
June 2014


pork loin dinner

(for Joann & David)

I made pork loin for our family
And thought of Joanne and David,
We went to their home
For occasional church potluck suppers.

They made pork loin supreme,
The group brought the sides,
All was served on china with glass,
Set on tables with clothes.

No plastic containers in sight,
Everything in its special dish or bowl,
But more than this
I’ll always remember…

The open door, the welcome,
The kindness, the laughter,
The gentle touch,
The conversation so that…

No one ever wanted to leave,
The reluctant good byes,
The friendship extended to each one,
The mastered art of entertaining.

                                                               Cerita M. Hewett
                                                               August 10, 2015


                                 Crows On The Sky

                                          Arrived today
                                          Somehow they know
                                          When the husks
                                          Split open on the pecans.

                                         My man plants his booted foot
                                         On one end of a springy slat
                                         Lifts up the other end and
                                         Three times he lets it go.
                                         Wham! Wham! Wham! 

                                        The shinny black demons fly
                                        Cawing their irritation at a feast

                                        Circling, calling raucously they
                                        Descend again
                                        Signaling their defiance
                                        At the warning whams.

                                        We go out
                                        Sacrificing gorgeous autumn days to
                                        Shake the trees and
                                        Gather up the nuts,
                                        Not conceding  
                                        All the delicious pecans to
                                        The harvesters.

                                                                                                Cerita M. Hewett
                                                                                                November 2001
                                                                                                (revised 2014)



Today, for lunch, I ate a Klondike.
Yes, the luxurious ice cream bar,
The one that is covered with chocolate,
The one that melts in your mouth
With the taste of cream, sugar, and, Uh-huh, chocolate.

It cost me two hundred and fifty calories,
Which I needed to work off on my bike,
Walking the trails in our forest,
Or shooting endless hoops in the hot summer air.

Once we each devoured three Klondikes
On the fifteen minute drive from town to the cabin.
I didn’t feel too good in my stomach
That time, but I was cooler.

Maybe it is the long
Hot summer of Texas
That compels one to such excesses,
Looking for chilly, refreshing food.

Still today, the memory of its smoothness,
Richness. . .
Was a magnificent way
To refrigerate a hot summer day.

Cerita M. Hewett
August 24, 2015


                                          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