Safe house

She slides from room to room, prone, for her own protection.
Windows make hiding the hardest: Being seen. Seeing.
All that safety excludes.
A breeze through the screen. Her footfalls on the wooden floor.
Risk. Risk.
Somewhere reckless people fill windows like Christmas lights.
Garish with their chatter, the way they throw their shadows against the walls.
They are un-gentle. Plinking heavy spoons,
clattering cups onto saucers without a care for the sound.
Oh, they have saucers.
They have metal spoons.