The Hungry

By Cliff Lake

 

The Hungry

 

He comes up over the great hill,

The town lies below.

Far has he come,

The wanderer,

His coat bedraggled and soiled,

His feet muddied,

Seeking succor.

Gaunt, and hungry,

He has just the energy,

To reach the edge of town.

There lies a granary,

Shelter perhaps,

And food.

Water can be found near,

An animal trough suffices.

Stealth long practiced gains him entry,

He will eat,

Then rest.

Night comes,

His sleep has gained him strength,

Enough vigor to explore this town,

To see what treasures it may offer,

To the intrepid such as he.

Perhaps he is not so much thief,

As he is survivor.

A darkened home looks likely,

Intrepid seeker,

He gains access almost noiselessly.

He noses for the pantry,

His hunger has returned.

He freezes.

A flurry of activity,

Lights,

Footsteps,

Voices.

All of these send him out,

Once more prowling the dark street.

Inside the voices clamor:

“What is up with that cat???”

“I don’t know, probably just a mouse.”

He scurries away, in search of safer cupboards…

Those without cats.

 

Cliff Lake 3/7/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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