It is the dark of night
I lie under my quilt warm
Comfortable secure
Listening as wind
Pushes the rain
Against my window

In the cold wet
Of this night
Where do they go

In the dim light
Of next morning
Out the kitchen window
The asphalt street
Glistens like polished silver
Tops of distant palm trees
Sway side to side
In the wind

In the cold wind
Of this wet day
Where do they go