Poetry by David Filer

Dedicated to The Imani Project

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To Marlene July 29, 2010


How one slips away

in a moment.  I

walked down to the street

this morning, meaning

to walk your dog, my

normal morning

duty, but then from

the street tree that spreads

across the walk came

a glorious song,

a concert varied,

lush and in perfect

key.  So I stood there,

then circled the tree

looking up into

its thick and puzzled

leaves, trying to find

the source, surely some

rare bird unusual

on a summer day

here.  Eventually

it moved and caught my

eye, only a small

Casin’s finch, female,

its dark-striped jacket

giving it away.

That moment passed, as

did this decade since

we said we would, and

I was reminded

how in darkness or

on a summer day,

from ordinary

things—this simple finch

passing through our street

tree, green and yellow

frogs chanting in still

evening air, your foot-

steps on the front porch

stairs, your muttering

words as morning breaks

to wake us into

another day—comes

those small and wondrous

blessings that turn one

decade—our ten years—

into a moment

we long to repeat.


—David Filer