Ode to a Tent By Carlie Tomlin Oh ye of impermeable contentment and sound sleep, of such free-standing elegance and glorious mystique! How doth now we sing the praises you so wholly deserve? Through offering of cow? No! But, by the ode of our words. Enshrined in terror by the roar of ferocious spiders, pinched, poked, plighted and pillaged by night's antennaed gliders, We turn to the hollows of your poled and protective womb finding unencumbered slumber, delicate and so unfestooned. For here, in a land mourning an insectual sorrow, we are shroud by white widow's veil, pulled through to the 'morrow. Nearly lead astray by naiive iconoclastic pride, wise maternal wealth welled up so that such sin was denied. Oh, odious tent! Forgive us our sins of snore, of drool, we repent! And worship
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