The wind blows and rocks the house. It rocks the horse and tilts the mouse. It wraps itself around the door and seals it shut from visitors.

The flowers inside are now safe while those outside get blown away. The night arrives and stays for days until the wind dies down and quiet reigns.

A light inside remains aflame but darkness seeps inside its frame. The flame cries with all it’s might, tired of being the only light.

It screams and sniffles on and on until it fizzles out. The flowers inside fade away while the seeds outside begin to sprout.

When the sun comes up, and soon it does, it finds the window shades all shut. It tries to peek and see inside but finds no gap, no break in sight.

That’s when the wind rises again and undoes the crack it once filled in. It gently sweeps inside the house and moves the shades on up from down.

The sun fills in the empty space and once again ignites the flame. It dries the tears that laid before and brings in warmth for evermore.