A college professor once told me to always save my work. She was speaking to visual art which I was dabbling in at the time. She might not have said that had she seen all my dabblings, but though I no longer dabble, I have tried to heed her words with my writing. So I was rummaging around in my notebook the other day and found an exercise from a long-ago writing program. I don't even remember what the prompt was. After I played with the words some, I came up with the following. I hope it's proof there is a little good in everything.

In a Tent

The lantern hangs and sputters from the center-pole.
Water drips from its cover.
The whole roof leaks.

Curled around puddles,
we cuddle and coo.
She is a shadow beneath the blanket.

Why are we here,
camping in a hurricane?
What are we trying to prove
by refusing to give up on a weekend
doomed from the start?

Yet, here we are
wet, miserable
and falling in love.