Norm Macleod Poet Blank verse

Hockey Time

You know that summertime is gone
		when a chill is in the air
		when snow is in the forecast
		and hockey sticks appear
		when kids with toques and earmuffs
		show up on every street
		stick-handling wayward tennis balls
		on tar and on concrete
		when flags of northern nations 
		unfurl on jacket backs
		with favored players featured
		on shirts and on backpacks.

		In Canada we’re hockey nuts
		we cannot get enough.
		The only time it’s out of thought
		is when the sledding’s tough.

		It’s hockey, hockey, hockey, for nine months of the year
		from Long Beach to the Grand Banks, Point Pelee to Ellesmere.
		In this the blooming of the North, this land that we hold dear,
		There’s talk of other sports at times but it’s hockey we revere.

		The stars, the stats, the standings,
		team trades and injuries
		consume us all the season
		and test our expertise.
		In cubicles and staff rooms
		at desks and boardrooms too
		the talk is all of hockey pools
		and who is picking who –
		Russian or Canadian
		American or Czech
		Swede or Ukrainian
		Finn, German or Slovack.

		In Canada we’re hockey nuts
		we cannot get enough.
		The only time it’s out of thought
		is when the sledding’s tough.



		

		It’s hockey, hockey, hockey, for nine months of the year
		from Long Beach to the Grand Banks, Point Pelee to Ellesmere.
		In this the blooming of the North, this land that we hold dear,
		There’s talk of other sports at times but it’s hockey we revere.

		And when we’re old with fires banked
		and we forget most else
		we’ll hanker back to storied games
		and golden stars whose very names
		excite our feebled pulse:
		Hull, Lemieux and Richard
		Beliveau and Fuhr
		Orr and Howe and Harvey
		Gretzky and Lafleur
		We'll hear again the rising roar
		And then the call 
		He shoots, he scores.	

		In Canada we’re hockey nuts
		we cannot get enough.
		The only time it’s out of thought
		is when the sledding’s tough.

		It’s hockey, hockey, hockey, for nine months of the year
		from Long Beach to the Grand Banks, Point Pelee to Ellesmere.
		In this the blooming of the North, this land that we hold dear,
		There’s talk of other sports at times but it’s hockey we revere.

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Beata Agustin May 19, 2024 at 5:22 AM Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Meanwhile, I greet you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.