On this bright October Saturday,
Horns flashed,
Drums rap-a-tap tapped,
The light breeze carried music.
As if alive,
It rolled like a crimson sunset wave
Turned back upon itself,
Weaved in and out,
Stretched forward and backward.
Forward, backward, diagonal,
Playing and marching,
Spreading wings then folding them,
Swelling and ebbing as an ocean,
Unfurling flags in unison,
A stirring tapestry upon a green field.
Cerita M. Hewett
October 18, 2015
My knees have personalities,
I know it’s strange but true,
My Left Knee complains on biking hills,
My Right just pumps like new.
But when I sit and rest awhile,
My Left is loose and fine,
While Right Knee tightens up a bit,
And wants to be reclined.
I really like my knees,
In spite of personalities,
Because they still can ride a bike,
Drive a car and take hike!
Cerita M. Hewett
July 27, 2014
Rake lines now covered the infield
Like a newly harrowed farm field,
Lights glared down over
Empty,
Un-run base paths and
Silent benches stood at attention.
Ten-thirty p.m.
The evening breeze kicked up a bit of powder
Near third base
Wafting it into left field.
My cooled face no longer
Dripped sweat.
Lakeview park was closed,
But I stood on the top bleacher
Savoring the victory
Looking out over a deserted
Brown and green
Masterpiece.
Cerita M. Hewett
(revised 2014)
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)