Don’t ask who I am, where I’ve been, or where I’m going. You wouldn’t believe me anyway. All you need to know is that I hide here once in a while.

There is no rhythm to my scheme. Sometimes I sleep under the awning or lurk in the shadows. Or you may think you hear me caterwaul in the night.

Yesterday, I waited for a handout like a circus carnie–under the eaves, then out near the roof’s edge–ready to pounce on an unsuspecting pigeon.

I’ll be gone tomorrow. I just stopped by to remind you that we critters and survivors–often invisible as you go about your day–confound explanation.