Black, white, calico Sleeping on open sun grass, At night prowl around. What do they do all day? When I’m at school or home? I see them basking in the summer sun and eating from metal bowls, but only when I’m near. They run away when I get too close and hide under cars. At night, sometimes, I see them crossing the street, but disappear when the car headlights shine on them and sink into the darkness of the shadows. They have no home, I think, yet they lurk under my shed, quietly waiting for nightfall.