Famished, returning from the hunt,
Through the tenebrous stretch of forest
Into the clearing: Jacob’s bungalow in sight.
And from within, ambrosial delights!
The most decadent of delicious delicacies!
“That wench of a brother,” Esau spake,
“He’ll have a minivan in no time.”
But what hunger!
To discard birthright for a single bowl,
It must have been one hell of a porridge!
Though soon after, his appetite returned:
And “Call me Oliver,” he spaked,
“But I want some more, please.”