Helplessly collapsed in a bundle of poles, rods, tarps and canvas, lays a cluster of a tent, eager to be assembled as the sky was laying its blanket over the sun. A sense of uneasiness floods my mind as I contemplate how this amassment of parts, once assembled, could possibly fulfill its harboring service to me from the nighttime's brutes of the wilderness.
The tent's eagerness proved to be an anchor for its assemblage, as I was pierced by the sight of what used to be a pile of parts waiting in the dusk's limited light. With the impetuous arrival of the dark, the tent arose to its purpose, and the uneasiness in my mind attenuated as the tent's unexpected bold deliverance of security from the darkness and all its creatures beckoned me. The tent's ropes were attached to the four corners of its tarp, where they stretched the tarp's surface area and were then securely fastened to the metal steaks lodged in the ground. The strong but flexible poles formed the skeleton of the tent's upright structure over which the tent's nylon skin was tightly stretched. Collectively, this alert skeleton and skin of beige and green formed my camouflaged warrior of the night. The waterproof skin barricaded me from any water of which Mother Nature intended to expel, and as I lay there in the tent I heard the soft scurries of the night crawlers and critters on the canvas above, trying to make their way in towards my body heat. As I close the tent with a swift sweep, the zipper's screech climbs the musical scale. The design of the tent, with its seams as tight as a drum, will not allow for the entrance of any critters. The musty odor that the noble tent emanates communicates its experience with the outdoors, as if it were trying to instill a sense of comfort with its expertise. Soothing me with its stability and security, my tent as my armor, held me as I doze off, carrying into a deep sleep.
Startled by the ring of my cell phone's alarm, I shot up into an upright position, and looked around at my knight of the night. Tired and weakened, the daylight shone through its thinned nylon canvas which was sagging as it had been saturated with water throughout the duration of the night. The morning sunlight cast shadows of the bugs which had given up their fight on the outside of the tent. The air in the tent was thick and humid and impelled me to unzip its flap, allowing the zipper to screech back down the musical scale. With the tent's opening, a rush of crisp morning air flowed in, battling the tent's stuffy air and taking its place. The ground underneath the tent did not seem so comfortable anymore, now that the daytime offered open space to move about. The tent's deceptive comfort throughout the night masked the aches and pains which came about with morning. I crawl out; leaving behind the weakened warrior and notice it put up a courageous battle with the wind, as the leaves were pasted to left side of the tent. The tent's strength was no longer apparent. It once beckoned me, offering its security for the night, but as daylight revealed its wilted structure, it commanded with its last bit of life, retirement to its helpless cluster of rods, poles, tarps, and canvas.
The tent's eagerness proved to be an anchor for its assemblage, as I was pierced by the sight of what used to be a pile of parts waiting in the dusk's limited light. With the impetuous arrival of the dark, the tent arose to its purpose, and the uneasiness in my mind attenuated as the tent's unexpected bold deliverance of security from the darkness and all its creatures beckoned me. The tent's ropes were attached to the four corners of its tarp, where they stretched the tarp's surface area and were then securely fastened to the metal steaks lodged in the ground. The strong but flexible poles formed the skeleton of the tent's upright structure over which the tent's nylon skin was tightly stretched. Collectively, this alert skeleton and skin of beige and green formed my camouflaged warrior of the night. The waterproof skin barricaded me from any water of which Mother Nature intended to expel, and as I lay there in the tent I heard the soft scurries of the night crawlers and critters on the canvas above, trying to make their way in towards my body heat. As I close the tent with a swift sweep, the zipper's screech climbs the musical scale. The design of the tent, with its seams as tight as a drum, will not allow for the entrance of any critters. The musty odor that the noble tent emanates communicates its experience with the outdoors, as if it were trying to instill a sense of comfort with its expertise. Soothing me with its stability and security, my tent as my armor, held me as I doze off, carrying into a deep sleep.
Startled by the ring of my cell phone's alarm, I shot up into an upright position, and looked around at my knight of the night. Tired and weakened, the daylight shone through its thinned nylon canvas which was sagging as it had been saturated with water throughout the duration of the night. The morning sunlight cast shadows of the bugs which had given up their fight on the outside of the tent. The air in the tent was thick and humid and impelled me to unzip its flap, allowing the zipper to screech back down the musical scale. With the tent's opening, a rush of crisp morning air flowed in, battling the tent's stuffy air and taking its place. The ground underneath the tent did not seem so comfortable anymore, now that the daytime offered open space to move about. The tent's deceptive comfort throughout the night masked the aches and pains which came about with morning. I crawl out; leaving behind the weakened warrior and notice it put up a courageous battle with the wind, as the leaves were pasted to left side of the tent. The tent's strength was no longer apparent. It once beckoned me, offering its security for the night, but as daylight revealed its wilted structure, it commanded with its last bit of life, retirement to its helpless cluster of rods, poles, tarps, and canvas.