Wednesday, December 9, 2009
On the phone with Mater;
she said "please hold a minute"
and set down the receiver
with me still chirping in it.
I whistled, then, she heard it-
across the kitchen whistled back-
returned my call with gusto;
both, we have the knack.
"Be there in a moment,"
called Mater, as she hurried;
I was happy whistling back and forth,
I wasn't worried.
But soon I took more notice-
the song had turned quite strange:
Mater sent back all my whistles
without a trace of change.
The whistling notes I whistled,
Mater matched them all-
whether I whistled three notes or six,
she'd duplicate my call.
Note for note returned to me-
I answered every one;
How did we synchronise so well,
as we had never done?
Mater came back on the line,
said, "verily I'm here."
A single thought occurred to me
and filled me with a fear.
"How much whistling did you do?
While we were parted so?"
I asked quickly this of Mater
who said she didn't know.
"I whistled for a bit," she said,
"but not for very long."
"Why do you ask? Did you not like
to hear the whistling song?"
I said to Mater that I thought
she performed a lovely show:
but- oh!- that all the later notes
were my very own echo.
No wonder they matched me song for song,
that we sounded so aligned-
I performed a duet with my own self;
how deliciously refined.
Posted by Phyllis Hunt McGowan at 5:41 PM