Poetry by David Filer

Dedicated to The Imani Project

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Beverly

Sometimes, when people

go who we do not

 

want to lose, they are

replaced. Not a true

 

reincarnation,

but something that keeps

 

their awe present. So,

the sudden wingbeat

 

and taut wire-like pluck

of the hummingbird,

 

body iridescent

in the slanting sun,

 

brought her back to us.

We could not but look.

 

But then, as if we

shouldn't have, or looked

 

too long, she vanished.

It was time enough:

 

for that quick song,

we were flowers again,

 

and remembered

our blossoming hearts.

 

(published by Poetry Depth Quarterly)

 

—David Filer