romantic supper for two
tent pitched beside a sea loch
camping over the Easter holiday

later that night
a storm arises
I peer out the tent flap

watch the tide
edging closer and closer
driven before the wind

lose my nerve
imagining us washed away
I uproot the tent

carry it on my back
up the track to higher ground
she follows in the car

re-erected on the mountainside
our tent now about to be
blown (rather than washed) away

spend the rest of the night
holding the tent frame together
my arms outstretched



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