Get up! Get up!
You sleepy head,
Hop up, bound up,
Jump out of bed.
The day has come,
The night has fled,
So spring up, leap up
And show your head.
Cerita M. Hewett
April 14, 2015
Author: cerita hewett
Night Has Fled
Get up! Get up!
You sleepy head,
Hop up, bound up,
Jump out of bed.
The day has come,
The night has fled,
So spring up, leap up
And show your head.
Cerita M. Hewett
April 14, 2015
Lessons From Leslie
I 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
Wild Flowers
They 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
Transplants
F
Transplants are tender.
Need nourishment,
Wilt in the heat of the day,
Perk up in the cool of the evening.
Crave life giving water.
The older they are the greater the risk,
Some may not make the transition
From the familiar,
To the new surprising garden.
Many with extra care
Put down new roots and flourish.
They once again bear fruit.
Cerita M. Hewett
June 3, 2015
Revised July 6, 2015
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
Weeding
I 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
Indoor Recess
Our school playground
Empty, lonely, deserted,
Raining, blowing, dripping,
Water running by the swings.
We stand at the window
And
Watch puddles forming.
The trees, bushes, and grass are drenched,
Too moist to slide down the slide,
Little streams are beginning to run down the hill,
There is a lake forming at the bottom,
Furthermore it is too soggy for soccer,
Likewise it is too wet for tag,
Too much rain for playing outside today,
Indoor recess for all!
Ahh
h
h
h
h
h
h!
Cerita M. Hewett
September 2, 1992
Knowing
There is a difference between
Knowing with the mind
And knowing with the heart.
For the Lord has told us
He will teach us in our hearts
And in our minds.
Our thoughts and feelings become
So intertwined it is often hard to tell
Which is thought and which is feeling.
Together they act as a duet,
For they are welded to each other
By the Savior’s love.
Cerita M. Hewett
September 21, 2015
Art Festival – for LeeAnn
A river of people flowed in and out
Along the art fest stalls displaying
Sculpture, painting, pottery, glass works,
With people floating in and out,
Seeking the medium that pleased them most,
Slipping by the booths that didn’t interest them.
We melted in among the swirl,
Swimming smoothly stopping and starting,
Soaking up the art, yet keeping Roger’s head in sight,
As he moved effortlessly, gliding quickly through the flood,
We paused longer at displays,
Talked briefly with some artists.
It seemed a thoughtful overflow of young and old,
Couples, singles, babies in strollers, teens,
Somehow calmed and gentled in the stream,
Amazed that in three hours of drifting,
We were jostled or bumped only once or twice,
And then received profuse apologies!
The sun, the breeze, the early Spring,
The coming back to life,
The art and its creators,
Came together for one delightful day,
Which flowed and ebbed into
A lovely memory.
Cerita M. Hewett
April 12, 2015
Revised May 18, 2015