Jane Dards

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The tent peg

by Jane Dards

I pulled up the tent peg
that held down the corner of the sky.

The sheet began to flap,
tearing away from the ground,
its edge stained with earth
and dashed with grass blades.

It leapt from my clutching hand,
snagging branches from the trees
as it lifted away,
billowing like a sail.

I looked into the space that
the placid sky had concealed,
and let the tent peg fall
from my limp fingers.