Poem – WINGS OF PESTILENCE (By Joseph Cavera)

WINGS OF PESTILENCE (By Joseph Cavera)

 

Once there was a farm out east

 

Ancient wooden barn

With piles of straw

And long mahogany fields

 

The land swelled with crops

Corn enough for every man

Woman, and child

Line after line

Veggie after fruit

Spade over hand

And shovel under foot,

Those columns grew

 

Each year, waves of blackness would ensue

Blocking out the sky, for some

Locusts, mosquitoes, gnats, chiggers

The growing roar that followed

Echoed their coming,

The wings of pestilence

 

No matter.

 

Agriculture was a thriving art

Unrivaled and uncontested

Even in a poor season

The market never closed

 

Each person bought their fruit

Their favorites first

Subsequently, stews were made

 

In all the houses,

From disheveled ruts

Farmhouses, local eateries,

Fecundity widened into full bellies

 

Industrialization ensued with expansion

Mechanized miracles, tremendous technologies

Serene labor was now noisy,

As grating shrills no longer cease

The once simple farm was no longer so

 

Domes with aluminum doors

Generator surrounded by caution signs

Acidic sprays

 

They spray everyday

Sending the pests packing, sure

Killing thousands, I’d wager

 

~

 

After 40 years of treatments

Ecological “refinement”

And continued digging

We are left.

 

The walls remain the same

The ceiling still appears fresh

Fish still swim, birds migrate

But we- we humans,

Ride the wings of pestilence.