The huge pine tree
Will easily hold
More than one nest.
It is large enough
For several nests.
Please build there
Not on the front porch!
Cerita M. Hewett
March 2015
poetry
Night Has Fled
Get up! Getup!
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
Robins
A flock of robins
Invaded our woods today.
They must be on their way North
As we don’t see them
Here in the summer.
They went straight to work
Gleaning and cleaning the forest floor.
I couldn’t hear their chattering
From my upstairs window,
But I could see their hunger
As they pecked, pecked, pecked.
Heads down pecking
Heads up watching
Exposing their burnt orange
Breasts to cloud muted light,
Bringing the hope of Spring on a
Cold rainy day.
Cerita M. Hewett
February 2015
The Artist
The Artist sprinkled diamonds
Generously in our woods last night.
Each pine needle on the one foot trees,
And every bristle on the one hundred foot trees.
Amazingly He didn’t miss a single one,
As He tipped them individually with a silver sparkler,
Until the whole forest gleamed
Green and silver and
Radiated His light.
He did this all while
We slept warm and quiet,
Beneath a blue quilt,
And in the morning woke to a
World transfigured,
By His hand.
So shall it be one day,
When we shall rise
Triumphantly.
Cerita M. Hewett
February 2014
Reading to Sydney
I have been known to stray from the text a bit,
When reading aloud to a wakeful young child,
Leaving out a word here and there,
Well, sometimes a whole sentence
In the interest of finishing the book,
Before I drift off to sleep.
Occasionally I have even changed the text,
To make it sleepier or in rare moments
Of tedium, more exciting.
But you, Sydney, knew your books so well,
That even the smallest slip up,
Was noticed and corrected.
You did however laugh and like it
When my recitation of
‘This little piggie went to market’,
Was altered so the third piggie
Had Pizza instead of roast beef,
Showing me emphatically that at three
You have discriminating literary taste!
Cerita M. Hewett
March 29, 2011
Pecans
After church,
On our way into the house,
I stopped to pick up a handful
Of dark brown pecans,
Just fallen, nestled in the grass you’d
Trimmed short on Saturday.
Before changing my Sunday clothes,
I filled three blue plastic bowls with
Chopped lettuce,
Sliced cucumbers, carrot stubs,
Shredded cheddar cheese, croutons, and
Tossed them lightly.
You stood there in the kitchen
Cracking pecans,
Pealing off the shells,
Extracting the plump meats,
Offering them half by half,’
Beside me.
Cerita M. Hewett
November 2000
Juices
I wanted to eat the book
In one sitting,
Swallow it whole like
Freshmen gulping goldfish,
Huge bites largely unmasticated.
But here I am mincing it,
A little here, a little there,
Moment by moment.
Stealing an instant away from life,
Grasping delicate bits of time
To chomp and chew small bites.
Grinding out the bulk
Until the juices flow,
Savoring the taste!
Cerita M. Hewett
2001
January Night Walk
We walk through crystal darkness,
Stars shine out but bring no warmth,
Our heels click sharply
Against the icy hardness.
One slips a little causing a
Catch in conversation,
Left hand to right we draw closer,
Warming each other,
Still we move along the way,
Rhythmically,
Almost as one.
Quiet street,
Low talk,
Hearts beat,
January night walk.
Cerita M. Moore
January 17, 1966
Clearing
Walking in the woods,
With a full moon,
Yet the woods all about
Were filled with darkness,
Scarcely a tiny shaft of light sifted through.
Only in the clearing,
Where dead trees had fallen,
Was it light,
The clearing was gleaming.
And looking up
I could see stars,
And the open heavens.
Cerita M. Hewett
February 14, 2014
Standing in Snow, and Frosting
Standing in Snow
The snow
Drifts down
On my boots,
It clings there,
Sparkling!
Sometimes,
I am glad.
Cerita M. Moore
About 1960 revised 2002
Frosting
I like the snow to fall and fall,
It covers grass and trees and all.
It makes the bushes feather white,
Hiding brown earth from my sight.
Sometimes in snow I run and slide,
Or build a fort where I can hide.
But best is the early morning sight,
Of all my world turned frosting white!
Cerita M. Hewett
August 15, 1981