Maybe she is ok. 
 Maybe not.
 The orange feral mama cat
 Who visited us regularly for months.
 Sometimes stepping through our front door
 just to see what it is like
 To be an indoor cat. 
 But she preferred her freedom 
 With her orange siblings? Children?
 Best friends?
 Three of them visiting daily. 
 Ollie – probably Olivia we called her.
 And her friends Stanley and Junior.
 All orange. All hungry.
 All willing to be petted however briefly
 By my cat-whisperer husband. 
 And then last week
 She wasn’t there.
 She may come back. 
 The others have come 
 But not her.
 Not yet.
 It’s been cold and rainy
 Outside and in my heart.
 How I loved this gentle wildling.
 How I pray to see her again.
 Perhaps she has found 
 A warmer place
 Or better food. 
 Who knows what is in the mind of a cat?
 The cat-whisperer says.
 But still I mourn for her.
 For the surprise of her visits.
 A little brightness in days
 Filled with pandemic 
 And polarization.
 Something to remind me of goodness
 And gentleness
 And sweetness.
 Even if but for a moment. 
 A lovely orange feral
 Bringing joy
 And love.
 And oh, the vulnerability
 Of loving something wild.
 Something that doesn’t want 
 To be tamed.
 Something uncertain 
 In an uncertain time.
 But now that she isn’t around
 I miss her.
 I weep for her.
 Knowing that God cares 
 About sparrows and 
 Feral cats 
 More than even I do.