The Dust Bowl

by Sarah

My family and I sit under our kitchen table,
with a bed sheet lazily draped over it.
Out of our unsteady, shaking home,
a wicked storm blows.
Stirring all the dust and sand,
into the air making the sky and air around us a red orange color.
Days after the storm,
there will still be reddish dust in the air.
We will wear bandanas over our mouths,
because of the dust.
I think how the terrible storms have worked their way into my life,
as I listen to the muffled sound of the radio
telling us of the horrible storm over head.

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