Little dog in the tent…


Whenever we go camping it brings out the animal in us, igniting our connection with nature; a bond that can never be broken. And when we take our dog he too is in his element, exploring the vast variety of woodland sniffs about him. But he also enjoys the cosiness of our human blankets and sheets inside the tent, relishing in the man-made comforts that him and his ancestors have done so well in attaining…

Little dog in the tent

Little dog, in the tent

All curled up, asleep again,

Finding comfort in any spot

Where softness can be bundled up.

He misses a territory which he can defend,

Doing his job, barking again.

He misses the safety of having a home,

But soon he adjusts to a life on the road.

Soon he finds peace, fresh air in the breeze.

Waking, then basking with each morning he sees,

Excitedly rushing through the next set of trees,

Then coming to lick us to tell us he’s pleased.

Like this poem? Then maybe you’ll enjoy my book, At Home in the Bushes, about a year I spent cycling, busking and wild-camping around the north of Britain. Click HERE to read more.


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