Drift

A blue bird’s feather
Shyly succumbs to gravity
And slowly, carefully lands
Upon a living perch

A blue bird’s feather
Rests against cloth hills
Rising and falling
With the tremulous breaths

A blue bird’s feather
Moistened with salty drops
Flowing from two blinking moons
Dampening the cotton dues

A blue bird’s feather
Forced from its roost
By the burst of mock thunder
And the wrathful metal rain

A blue bird’s feather
Flees from its landing
Escaping the thick red mist
Left after the man-made storm

A blue bird’s feather
Existing unaware
Peacefully drifting 
Unvexed by human tempests