Gray bird against gray sky
amongst gray twigs of hawthorn copse
warbling so softly with beak closed
I assume the call is a more distant bird
‘til I see tail twitches marking time.
It flies cross the road to join another,
together they fly back again uttering
single louder cries “whoot....whoot....”
At home with field guides and internet
photos, descriptions and recordings
I come up empty handed with no
name for the bird in the bush.