The Wrath of Grapes

Again, creeping, nose around the corner first
The Bear is gone, alone I thirst
Alone I tremble, alone I shake, there is a prize to take.

Moved to the kitchen quick as a flash, skirting the corners very fast
Barren inside the trunk of a tree, to the icebox I go to open and see
My eyes spy beside the milk, carrots, cabbage, and cheese
The bowl of grapes so plump, so green.

As a nymph to a woodsman, they call my name
My share is gone, devour the rest, save not even the best
Hidden in my corner so no one can see
Sucking and seeking the treasure of treats.

Inhaling, swallowing, never enough, never ending
My breath becomes baited and sated
One turns ten, ten turns thirty, thirty and none.

Moaning, groaning, pot-bellied beast
Ate their share and spared none for more
Drunk, sunk, the smallest twitch
Alone, I have set my trap, Alone, will feel the wire snap.

His car! He's home! The Bear is home
Barely breathing hearing his voice
Tired, hungry, his treats, his choice
Anger and screams, He's mad it seems.

"What the hell," he growls
"Where're the damn grapes?"
One stem, left in the open, cold and alone.

Door shut, hidden on the floor
Traitorous hands and Judas stains
Whispering "It is me," trap sprung
No matter, never again will I eat the honey to taste dung.