Amid the screeching
Screaming tires of the night,
When dreams, fragile dreams
Are about to be crushed,
Listen, listen!
You may hear the mockingbird
Singing in the dark,
I did!
Cerita M. Hewett
April 22, 1988
Author: cerita hewett
Blue Tooter
Sputters, pops, and groans,
Beat up sagging seats,
Damaged dashboard,
Dented fenders,
New tires,
Dim headlights,
A bed scratched as a hen yard,
A free gift to cheerful student sisters,
Made it from Texas to Utah and back,
Still runs!
Cerita M. Hewett
March 29, 2000
Reminders
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
Hope
When I think of the Savior
Teaching the common people,
With the Widow of Nain,
Healing the sick,
In the garden of Gethsemane,
With the woman at the tomb,
Appearing to the Nephites after his resurrection,
Letting each one of the multitude
Touch the marks in His hands, feet, and side,
Holding and blessing each child,
I feel sure hope that He knows me.
I know He loves me,
When I let Him come into my life,
He reaches out to me,
Though there is turmoil in the world around,
Through Him I smile each day,
And with this hope I pray and work,
I try to be a little kinder,
Then follow Him.
Cerita M. Hewett
Revised 2015
Easter Hymn
The Savior in Gethsemane,
And on the cross of Calvary,
Paid all my debts,
And set me free.
By this great gift I surely go,
Forward and upward day by day,
To live, to serve, to see my way
Back to my Father’s home.
With gratitude I bow my head,
And now remember what Christ said,
For all mankind my blood I shed,
Come follow me, rise from the dead.
Cerita M. Hewett
March 28, 2013
Circuits
After a week’s absence
You stood there smiling,
Framed by the office door,
Silently waiting,
Watching for me to notice
Your return,
Expecting,
Electricity!
Cerita M. Hewett
March 7,1997
I Love…
I love my mother.
Her sparkling, laughing, blue eyes often read,
She easily made the most wonderful bread,
She knew how to listen to what I said.
I love my gray sweater.
Soft, warm, and worn,
Pulled over my head looking old and forlorn,
I’ll keep on wearing it though it is torn.
I love the color blue.
On white Florida sand, the azure gulf rises,
Blue skies, blueberry pie, Roger’s blue eyes,
And blue butterflies.
I love to go to the mountains to roam.
In summer away from our hot Texas home,
Wading in cold streams won’t cause me to moan,
Though building rock dams can chill one to the bone.
I love children.
Tall, short, skinny, fat,
Those who giggle, cry, and pout,
The runners, the jumpers, and the sitters about.
I love reading and writing.
Learning from poems, stories, and books,
I like to see how my ideas look,
Written on a page of my very own book.
I love baked potatoes.
Covered with butter, chives, and sour cream,
Topped with cheese, chili, olives, it will seem,
Like something that came from your very best dream.
I love Roger sweet and true.
Sailing on the lake so blue
Working with an untried crew,
Always, always, making do.
Cerita M. Hewett
About 1994 revised 2002
Polished Sandhill Crane
A polished sandhill crane
Stands on the table of my room,
White Tail-feathers nearly brush the ground,
Slender feet sustain it carefully,
As though ‘twould walk quite soon,
Beneath the long and gracious neck,
Shines out an oval spot of brown.
Her beak,
Like an ivory needle gently drawn high,
Attracts my eyelids upward from the earth,
Stretching gladly toward the pale blue sky.
My spirit seems to soar with a new birth.
The one who carved you
From that discarded horn,
Made you to match his lofty thought,
Through his delightful toil,
Your life was born,
By his sincerity
A thing of beauty wrought.
You stand there doing nothing,
Bending not a knee,
Still in your shaping
A heart gave,
Now looking
Uplifts me.
Cerita Marie Moore
January 4, 1966
Pond
The pond,
Built with his hands and a
Heart full of love,
Draws raccoons and fox to drink from it,
Allows minnows and frogs a swimming place,
With rocks, large, rough, black and orange,
Making sunning places for turtles, geckos, and people,
While still water provides a reflecting surface
For tall old weathered trees,
And small young bushes.
Its little waterfall
Bubbles and splashes with living water,
Available to all who come seeking it.
Cerita M. Hewett
September 21, 2015
Box of Happiness
You brought a heart-shaped box of chocolates,
I don’t remember you doing this before,
It was the perfect gift this year
After so much sacrifice and service.
I opened it,
We smelled its richness,
We read all the descriptions of each specialty,
Peanut cluster, mint, caramel, pecan, vanilla nugget,
Then I suggested we each pick one to eat,
You remarked, “I bought them for you.”
I answered, “Eating alone is no fun.”
We each ate three,
Laughing, reveling, declaring their goodness,
Savoring the shared valentine moment.
Reluctantly we closed the glossy lid,
I washed the supper dishes in the glow of
Our heart-felt box of chocolate happiness.
Cerita M. Hewett
Feb. 14, 2013
Revised 2014