not the blue jay, nor the cardinal
have camouflage,
nor the large black cat
who appears from time to time.
I see a faded red collar.
Who would have left her out
in such weather?
Then I remember Patsy
a sturdy feline, a gift on my seventh birthday
who wandered off on a similar winter day.
When he did not return
I knew my first desertion
the pain of offering my love and devotion
to another being
whom I could not control.
when he ambled back home
appearing well and well-fed,
what had I learned?
That those we love can break our hearts?
or
that cats will do as they please?
