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