I once asked to dance with a magpie.

While dressed up, they are wonderful creatures;

too bad they only see in black and white.

I cannot show my colors and Roy is again lonesome.

My wings, clipped, would flutter helplessly in a cage.

My squawks for freedom came unanswered for days, weeks, months.

Claws scratched bars, air struggled, my feathers rustled.

Silence broke, like glass shattering during a sermon, preaching blasphemy into the ears of young magpies.

The young toucan, exemplified in the gray sky, was unlike any creature.

The world revolved around her; the sun cried-her beauty unfolded paralleling to none.

Trees bowed down, the Helen of all the land.

She set me free- an arrow of love penetrated deep into my breast.

Rainbows were dull in color, envying her wings, shining in God's glory.

Mother Nature needed her.

The clouds needed her to dance upon them for her remaining days.

The seas and country would not let me have her.

The world would have ended.