Streaks down your nape
and over your back
in black and grey,
a stripe over your eye
in rufous brown.
If your markings
were mine, how exquisitely
they would wrap
my pale skin.
But having no feathers,
I would not be
as beautiful as you.
Oh, that I had such
a clear, sweet whistle
modulating to a trill.
From my home
I hear the clearing
of your habitat.
Your natural world
shredded and torn.
My song is not
strong enough to keep
you safe nesting
in pine tree’s carpets.
We are both little-known
occurring nowhere
else in the world.
Your wings beat
in my declining heart
that hopes to hear
your sweet chip-chip
in heaven (in some places
only three feet away)
-Margaret Lee Triplett
Margaret Lee Triplett, a gay woman, studied piano performance at the University of South Carolina and computer science at the University of Texas at Austin. She immerses herself in the poetry to which she is drawn. Her poetry includes the following publications: Amethyst Review, Mused: The BellaOnline Literary Review, The Magnolia Review, Deep South Magazine, Muddy River Poetry Review and forthcoming in Blue Nib Literary Journal. She currently lives in Tega Cay, South Carolina.