Through Jarom’s Eyes

                        My mama let me

Play at dish washing,

Dig dirt and sand,

Mix water with dirt,

Stir cookies,

Roll down a grassy hill,

Splash in puddles,

Run in the rain,

Blow bubbles in my milk,

Pick dandelions,

Bang a pot drum,

Taste salt and sugar,

Smell cinnamon and mint leaves,

And pat the cat.

                     Mama read books to me,

Washed my clothes,

Helped me pray,

Sang lullabies.

                    I love my mama!


Cerita M. Hewett
October 30, 2015


weedingI was reminded again today,
How important it is to weed
My own garden and
How difficult and even dangerous it is,
To try to weed,
Someone else’s ground.

Not knowing what is planted in that soil,
It is easy to pull a flower in its beginnings,
Mistaking it for a weed.
Leaving a gaping wound whose
Healing takes such time
And effort that one tires into exhaustion.

In the heat of the moment,
One is served best by
Searching out and extracting,
Personal weeds as carefully as possible,
Leaving the care of another’s plot,
Safely in the owner’s loving hands.

Cerita M. Hewett
July 2009
Revised November 2014

No More

Tawny Owl Hidden Between Leafs

Behind the Alojamiento.
In the daytime, mostly hidden,
An owl sat in a leafy tree,
Only eyes, a foot, and half a body visible,
We looked for him in the light,
As we walked by there each day,
And listened for him at night,
As we lay suspended between awake and asleep.
Once in a while we would hear
A soft ooo- ooo- ooo-
Or a muted rustle of
Wings in flight.

Then one day we saw him no more,
Heard him no more,
Yet our heads turn as we pass his perch,
Hoping for one more sighting.
Still we listen for his call in the twilight hours,
Just a mirage remains,
Just an echo in our brains,
Only a gentle, pleasant, lingering memory!

Cerita M. Hewett
September 4, 2010