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My Old Friend

I sit, gazing at my bountiful fields;
Cattle graze and meander upon the grass;
Flapping, a shadowy figure soars near;
He perches on the railing of my porch,
still saturated from the morning dew;
"Hello, my old friend," I say with a sigh;
He wears blackened fur and sports darkened wings;
“What brings you here to visit me today?”;
His masked bill stirs with curiosity, 
Balancing himself on the old, cracked wood; 
Through a gurgled croak, the bright outlook transforms;
Dark clouds emerge above dangerous peaks;
Pockets of pure salmon sky are swallowed;
Green fields decay to a hostile landscape; 
Pestilence ravages the strong cattle; 
Their corpses fester where maggots mingle;
Shaking, I try to clear what my eyes see; 
The thumping of my heart intensifies;
My lungs seek oxygen but there is none; 
Bleakness encumbers my soul, my being;
My only release sits on a table
Beside me in a cloudy container; 
I grasp the bottle and clutch the white pill
With a strong gulp its powdery flesh makes
Its way deep into my troubled system;
I close my eyes and suck for air again;
Minutes pass, and the malignant world mends;
I open my eyes to the greenery
And perpetual beauty undisturbed;
My old friend departs into the blue sky;
I wave him goodbye but I know he will
Return tomorrow with an avalanche

allegoryanalogyanxietydepressioniambic pentameter

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