When I was walking home along the creek path the other evening, I heard a mockingbird. I stopped to listen, arms limp at my sides, my back to the creek bed. I could hear him singing behind the row of houses there. I was surprised to hear another bird pick up when he stopped, singing now from a little further away, and then a third one, quieter yet. Last night I heard this happen nearer our home. I have always thought of one mockingbird, a lone voice in the middle of the night or in the early dawn. But these birds were in this together. Their songs sounded joyful, musicians playing, improvising, meeting in that place where music goes, where music takes us, each connecting in those spaces. I think of that unexpected bird symphony now when I get ready to head out into the early dusk hoping for a little more night music.
No Holds Barred
64 at 64—To trusting more (and more!)
No Holds Barred 
How delightful! Did you succeed? I would love to witness a mockingbird concert on my mango tree! :-)
Like most things in life, the mockingbird music does seem to elude me when I am hunting it! :)
Do you have mockingbirds there, Madhu? Because the combination of the night music and the laden mango tree strikes me as a potent mix! But they may not be inclined to gather in one tree. (Though I will happily hold the vision for you!)