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

Sassafras Tree

sassafrasThrough the pines and cedar,
I noticed a Sassafras tree turning gold,
I thought, I better go stand beneath it
Before little breezes carry
All the leaves to the ground.

Before it stands bare,
And leafless,
Against the coming freeze.

It would be a shame to miss all that
Warmth and shining light.
Today I went and basked beneath it,
Remembering other times
When I waited too long.

Cerita M. Hewett
October 21, 2015

Hitchhikers

weedsWalking through the woods today
I picked up a bunch of light weight hitchhikers.

They stuck to my socks,
Clung to my pant legs,
And even managed to
Attach them selves to my sweater.

Some are pointy and barbed,
While others are just
Rough, sticky, and
Clingy.

I sat on the porch picking them off
One by one,
Since it is impossible to just
Brush them away.

One cannot walk in the fields and woods this fall
Without giving them a most unwelcome ride,
So I remove them carefully,
As they can even hang on through the wash!

Now, carrying my pile of riders
Into the house to the garbage pail,
So as not to plant them in the lawn,
One pokes my ankle and
It becomes apparent that some
Are still hitchhiking!

Cerita M. Hewett
November 2014

Unopened

RoseThe two long stemmed,
White rose buds,
I was given in the temple,
Stood in my catsup bottle vase,
For several days,
Improving our apartment with
Their delicate beauty.

One of them unfolded,
Little by little and let forth
A lovely delicate perfume,
Then dropped her head,
Her yellow center seeds and
Soft petals gradually fell upon the table.

The other stayed as a bud,
She never opened so I tried,
To inspire her with fresh water,
And a new clean cut along her stem,
But she refused to open,
Gradually growing brown,
First around the edges and then her center,
Until I gave her up to the waste basket.

Remembering both the fully opened all giving ose,
And the brown holding back unfulfilled bud,
Who both expired,
I wonder at our opened
Or unopened hearts, gifts, powers,
That bless or never fully develop
To gladden our lives and others.

Cerita M. Hewett
Sept. 28, 2009

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

Rain (for Sydney)

rainWe love rain in desert Arizona.
The smell as it quiets the dust,
Bringing a coolness to the sky and city,
Seeing it soak and steam on the sidewalks,
Feeling wetness as we stretch our fingers out
To touch tiny moist raindrop miracles.
Rain, noble rain!
In Arizona,
In June.

Cerita M. Hewett
June 5, 2015
Revised July 6, 2015

Wild Flowers

wildflowersThey are building another new house
Where the wildflowers bloomed.
The red clay dirt has been scraped,
Trenches scored for footings.
The indian paint brush, black eyed susans,
And fire wheels have disappeared

Soon cement, studs, and flooring
Will occupy that space.
After the brick and inside work,
Green sod will fill the yard.
Maybe a swing set with laughing children
Or dog run will appear.

In a year or two daffodils,
Yopon holly, canna lilies, or elephant ear
Will soften the rigid red brick.
Marigolds or impatients
May line the walks.
Perhaps they will plant a flowering pear tree.

I cannot wander that path anymore.
Now I must walk on a road.

Cerita M. Hewett
June 10, 2002

Reminders

Field of daisy flowers

The daisy with its golden sun center
And white radiating petals,
His light and eternal knowledge.

The daffodils first blooms,
Of the first spring for all mankind,
When He arose and came forth.

The rose with the sweet fragrance of
Life, not of the tomb,
His glorious resurrection.

Well then, all things remind me,
Trucks pulling heavy loads
His cross.

Bucket loaders
Lifting dirt and rocks to higher places,
His lifting of our sins.

Cars speeding down the straight away,
The eternal path, narrow, but well-marked
By His treading feet.

Graders moving rocks aside,
Smoothing the way,
His gentle voice calming hearts.

Airplanes soaring up and over mountains,
His lifting, climbing,
Carrying all who come to him upward.

Yes, all things can remind us of Him,
When we look through the lens of spiritual lives
At mortality.

Cerita M. Hewett
September 20, 2015