Through the Eyes of a Tripper

Why we Trip

by Adam Cytrynbaum

As the bright orange glow
of the sun sinking low
kaleidoscopes pink and brown

And the soft cooling shield
While refusing to yield,
Gives rest to our weary cowls,

As the noble loon wails
tune of the whistling gale,
and the bullfrogs scratch and howl,

The air smells of peace,
And our burdens are ceased,
yet this is not why we trip.

While our hearts tend to pound
As we conquer the mounds
Of the portage long and steep

And though the hearty winds blow
‘Cross the Opeongo
Our will it shall not seep

And when the campfire declares
That our supper is rared
With scent of pepper, garlic, anise

We know though the stars may shine bright
Through the deep dark of night
That this is not why we trip

For as the paddles they draw
a chorus of innocent awe
with a joy that cannot deceive

As the giggles they ring out
‘hind thin walls that give shout
to which man was not meant to perceive

And in the child’s wide eyes,
As he says “Think I’ll try,
To get there myself, I believe”

We know as the cacophony
sings of shared liberty
That this is why we trip.