This trip was a bit different from the other
No lodge with a bed, and more canoeing than you can ask for.
All my friends were by my side, making the return better than
Some trips I have taken with my family
Little food rations for everyone, making one wonder
If that would last even the worst paddler until the next meal
Every night seeming so beautiful, only to disappear in hours
The clouds in the sky looking like stones so smooth from
Weathering in the tiny creek bed, the sky a mixture of fiery
Orange and yellow, and a burst of pink, purple, green, and
Even yellow blended together perfectly to create a silhouette
Of the big tall birch trees at the edge of the water, only
To make a reflectionon the lake as smooth as glass
Every night a new campsite, bringing with it a new memory,
The two pound bass, fileted while still breathing, only to be
Devoured by nine yound men, the best fish of their life
Completely secluded, serene, from all that is normal and modern
Every morning awakening to the cold, north woods air, hesitant to
Get out of your sleeping bag and long johns,
You lay there wondering what challenges the new day will bring
Could there be a bad portage, an unforgettable experience, or times of seemingly everlasting fun
My return to Minnesota could be better than the first.