Nature

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

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)

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

Perfect Rose

Closeup Beautiful Macro Pink RoseIn the garden I picked a perfect rose,
Light pink in the center with
Tiny silver rain drops beading and
The edges tinged with brilliant pink.

In the house I put it in a blue vase,
Adding some fern like greenery
For contrast, to frame and set it off,
Then I sat to examine it carefully.

Alas a tiny speck of dirt was spotted
And carefully flicked off a velvet petal,
Low and behold, one of the outer petals
Had two rather large bug bites along its fringe.

Flaws noted and forgiven, my rose still stands,
Gives freely fragrance and delicate beauty
Perfect to me and those who
See the wholeness of this rose.

Cerita M. Hewett
May 17, 2015

East Texas Spring

                          Bluebonnets And Indian Paintbrushes Near Ennis, Tx                           Drinking in Spring using a thimble was so limiting

                           That I tried a teacup,

                           And then a large bucket.

 

                           Even then it was difficult

                           To savor all the greens in the forest,

                           Yet still sip up the flowers along the roadside,

                           Who whispered, “sample me.”

 

                           So Spring sang her special song,

                           And spread her banquet of beauty,

                           For all Texans to taste,

                           But you will need a wash tub at least!

                                                                            Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                            April 11, 2013

Wild Pasture Dance

                                    The dry brown leaves

                                    Raced across the pasture this morning,

                                    They leaped, skipped, and flew

                                    All the way to the fence.

 

                                    Then they piled on top of each other,

                                    Laughing, tickling, and jostling.

                                    Whispering joy in their

                                    Wild pasture dance.

 

                                    Their sprint exposed

                                    The tender new green grass

                                    To the sun,

                                    To the rain,

                                    And to the hungry goats.

                                                                                                           Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                                                            February 20, 2014

Percussion

                          The percussionists from the band

                           Did not get a lot of sleep last night,

                           And neither did I.

 

                           They started entertaining

                           About one in the morning and

                           Continued until six.

 

                           The opening movement

                           Consisted of low timpani slowly

                           Building to the staccato booms

                           Of the bass drum.

 

                           The second movement

                           Spotlighted large cymbals crashing,

                           While snares put together

                           Their relentless rhythms

                           On the roof, trees, and ground.

 

                           And the final movement

                           Featured the gradual

                           Retiring of the snares,

                           One clang of the small cymbals,

                           A silver tinkling of the bells,

                           Then three slow booms on the big bass drum,

                           And a gentle pom,  pom,  pom, by the timpani.

 

                           The early morning sun

                           Revealed a sparking world,

                           Gleaming in rain soaked trees,

                           And silvery grass.     

 

                           But, as I said to begin with,

                           The percussionists from the band

                           Did not get a lot of sleep last night,

                           And neither did I.

                                                                                                                      Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                                                                        April 2014

After the Storm

                                        The morning after the big storm,
                                        While pine tuffs and sweet gum leaves
                                        Still laid torn and green upon the ground
                                        Where the hail had shredded them
                                        From tall and growing trees,
                                        The ants are already rebuilding.

                                        Each ant struggles upward with a grain of sand,
                                        Then scampers down into the hole for more.
                                        Builders where nature has torn down,
                                        Unflinching at the work before them,
                                        Their unity of purpose,
                                        Collaboration and energy,
                                        Their optimism in the face of an enormous task,
                                         Is contagious for all who pause to watch.
                                                                                                 Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                                                  April 2011