by Cordelia Hanemann

Walking alone, I cock
my head, hear the mockingbird
sing his medley of tunes,
his repertoire impressive,
I think.

I whistle. Silence.
Listening? I whistle again.
Silence. Once more I whistle
my one tune.

He whistles back.
I have found — a sweetheart
in the deep woods.


Image by zhnee from Pixabay