Black Magic

I call a friend to render aid
He's short and black as slumbered nights
He speaks in undeluded tongue
And sets so many things to rights

The tumblers of my mind are set
In them, a puzzle to reveal
And in such things my friend delights
As I relax, he breaks the seal

My friend is of Colombian stock
His brothers here and distant lands
All called by someone who has need
Work miracles with dextrous hands

My friend must first be in a grind
To work his magic it is true
Before he's ready for the task
He takes a steaming shower too

And so we say a fond farewell
It's true, alas, our visits end
But in our minds we're both aware
Ere long, I'll surely call again