Poem On: Day 6

Snorlax (#143)

Calories and a little spell
unconscious. Life
is that contented weight
sprawled soft across
your path. We eat
in a panic, like our greatest
grandfolks, fats and sweets,
anything at the ready. Instinct

promise-whispering: someday you'll see
a season to starve. Act now.
Our vivid sleep must be the same:
a little night music, saving up
on the chance we can carry dreams
into the rest where none are promised.