Crisp Apple Orchards

Running through the orchard.
Rabbits running haywire.
The country breeze scattering stones on
the country road.
The long, winding country road.

It's that kind of season.
We've waited hours for the storm to come.
The wind picks up.
It won't set us down.

We wait patiently for Summer.
We can see what we plunder.
The skies never darken here.
The rain never comes.
The declining years are in for the long haul.

Alice's Intervention

The bright light cascaded down like the light that follows sickly sweet angelic choirs. Alice coughed, a haggard sound escaped her deathly ribcage. A face came into view. The face was obscured, just a shadow thanks to the choir of angels and sneak thieves. She thought what a pity that was because the face, although blurred seemed so handsome. She coughed, a sickly stream of serpent lava... the face came into view. He was handsome, he looked just like an angel. His steel blue eyes gazing down at her with such concern. She murmured something about 'sneak thieves, drug dreams' and then noticed the stethoscope.

She came back to earth, to the hospital for sick humanity. Alice wondered if she was still human but the burning in her veins told her she was at least on the same plain of existence as them. She coughed again, blood curdling and frothing from her mouth. Her teeth chattered at the sensation. She gripped the morphine dispenser, an old and familiar ally and pumped it through her system so fast her veins shook.