Late Evening Reflection On The Front Porch With Cat

I aimed at A and
Hit W, by God’s grace, or is it Z or N?
The cat crunching her meal
As holy a sound
As the rap of some committee chair’s gavel.
I can not help but wonder
At the course of a life so horribly off course
From the intended trajectory of those who launched me.

A certain gray kitty
And a thousand other contingencies
Never even vaguely seen or even sensed at launch.

If Mother were alive
Would she be pleased?
The moon shines a tarnished sliver
On my wife’s truck’s windshield.