Feather

Innocent feather on a breeze
swaying, twirling, and dancing.
Free of everything,
it falls to the ground.

A shot rings out,
and the feather turns crimson.
What sort of treachery is this?
White to crimson in an instant.

Witness to murder,
Yet, it is blind.
Proof of the blood
thick and wet.

Slowly, the blood seeps into the soil.
The wind picks up
and the stained feather
once again is on its way.