in tame, cemented days like these
ensconced in automated ease

ah, what a gift again to see
hunger, lounging in a tree

all tawny bright, not quite replete
yet not so fraught as seeking meat
would make this golden beast

ah, what a gift of joy to dream
of your, instead of siren’s scream

your song of love, your song of heat
the song you sing imperilled meat

in urban vales, now plump with flocks
of targets for your ardent stalks
you’d frolic, holding feast

until that day, in mountain fastness
keep your home safe in the vastness

yet pass by valley trails through town
your tail a golden flash through brown

and when you find the urge to rest
then, like a bird, though without nest
lounge, hunger’s totem beast.

I think it was Day 9 on which we were given the prompt ‘Hunger Lounge.’ Okay, I thought. This image is from pixabay.com contributor ‘Skeeze.’ Thanks, unknown pal.