For years he thought the Mourning
Dove was a Morning Dove because

often it spoke in the morning — who,
who, who. Only recently he saw the

spelling and it hit him that was exact-
ly right. The who, who, who was so

mournful. For whom did the bird
mourn? It couldn’t be his ever-so-

close partner, the one with whom he
went everywhere. He would call —

who, who, who and she would be
right there for him. Did she know

that there had been one before who
was long gone? Who was she? Does

he still mourn her departure? When
he cries who, who, who, does his

partner say, “I’m here, darling,”
or just answers in kind — who,

who, who? Had there been one who
had gone before in her life, too?

Or were all those whos really coos?
Perhaps both as most things come in twos.