the whistler

my grandmother used to
love to whistle.
a veritable bird
in a cage.
she'd whistle complete songs,
her lips puckered
her cheeks blown out.
her hands conducting an invisible
orchestra.
she'd make funny faces,
her eyes would twinkle.
on and on she'd go, but after
awhile it got very annoying
and you had to leave the house
and go play in the street.