In Self-Quarantine, Watching My Cat from My Bedroom Window by Nikita Gill

I hope one day I become as gifted at recognizing love as my cat is.

I named him after the poet with the darkest, largest heart and I think of ravens

every time I call his name. He is not obedient, but I would not want him tame.

His tightly coiled body as he stalks birds, his discerning look when he hears his name but does not wish to come home.

I, too, hope to be that confident in a love. Someone who I know will still love me, even if I do not run to them

every time they call.

— Where Hope Comes From by Nikita Gill (Page 33)