Matthew Lee

Outside, the wind puts the tree at odds

And grains of sand engulf its shadow.

Inside, grains of sugar fall to the table

While he tries to find the book.

She runs through the storm,

Her shaken voice like bells through the air.

He finds the book, and sits down to read

While the sand whips at his sturdy window.

On her determined flight

Her steps never waver

By chance, he looks out of his safe house

Into the dusty hell beyond its walls

She sees the wispy outline of a house on a hill

And relief fills her heart.

He opens the door, and she collapses inside

Now she can rest.