The extent

As the rain pounded down
outside I unpacked the tent
I haven’t used for years,
not since the years of outside
sagged the fabric and
seeped through the groundsheet.
I took the places it has been,
hillsides, campsites, riverbanks,
moors, woods
and that carpark
where we tied the guyropes
to a mesh fence
I took the people it has sheltered
those who helped me pitch it
and those whose camping ended
even before we did
I took the green flysheet,
the yellow inner
the decades
and stuffed them all
into the bin.
Eleven bent pegs, though.
I kept them.

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