Time Out

               Woman with crutches

                I have experienced a few “time outs” in life,
                Some illness or injury that took me out of the active game,
                A loss or disappointment that paused my busy days,
                These “breaks” have been well springs of deeper reflection,
                Benevolent “rests” in my perpetual music and dance. 

                Though uncomfortable, even painful,
                They have enriched my soul and drawn me
                Closer to friends,
                Closer to my family,
                Closer to the Lord.

                They have made me more compassionate,
                A stronger, more joyous player.

Cerita M. Hewett
March 2013

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)

 

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)

Reflections

                                Family Canoe River                                    The trees,
                                                   The canoe,
                                                               The paddles,
                                                                        The people 

                                             Shimmered in the still,
                                                      Clear as a looking glass
                                                               July water of Ratcliff Lake. 

                                             I sat on the shore,
                                                      Marveling at the
                                                               Duplicated images.
                                                                        Like the spirit and the body.

                                                                                 Exact!

              

                                                                                               Cerita M. Hewett
                                                                                               August 4, 2014

Sleep

Insomnia                                    Come to me now
                                    While it is dark and
                                    Most of my world
                                    Rests, snores, breaths deeply,
                                    Turns slowly. 

                                    Come while
                                    Water is quiet,
                                    Air is still.

                                    Come now while time ticks mercilessly
                                    Towards dawn and work,
                                    Sleep come now!

                                                                        Cerita M. Hewett
                                                                        March 7, 1997
                                                                        (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)

Cloudy Day Gulls

Gulls flapping on this cloudy day,

Appear whiter than white,

Their wings reflect and glow.

 

But vultures drifting this same day,

Are blacker than black,

Like coal or chimney soot.

 

On such a gray day, the grass seems greener,

The flowers blaze red, maroon, yellow,

And the hydrangea are a brilliant blue.

 

Our youth who live and dress obediently

Also radiate, glisten, and shine out

Against the backdrop of a darkened season.

 

Displaying before a sad and profane world,

Eyes and faces glowing with the spirit

Lighting the many varied paths they travel.

 

Leading others from a shadowy dusk,

Toward the One True Light,

Then soaring together into eternal life.

                                                               Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                                    March 17, 2009

                                                                                    (revised 2014)

Boxes

Square paper box, a top view                       Poetry,

                                Is a series of

                                         Unopened boxes,

                                                 Nestled inside each other.

 

                           Boxes which

                                    Gently open,

                                             One by one,

                                                    When repeatedly read aloud with

                                                               Someone you love.

                                                                                                          Cerita M. Hewett                                                                                                          January 30, 1999

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