The Canadian Pastime


Most of you probably know this, but I am Canadian.
I like being polite to strangers until they piss me off, I like when the Mounties get their man (or woman), I think igloos are awesome and I wish I could build one each winter (but there’s never enough snow or ice where I live!), I like maple syrup a bit more than is strictly healthy, and I think the music that comes from my country is pretty rockin’ (though two notable exceptions spring to mind: J. Beibs, and Nickelback. Nobody’s perfect, not even Canada).

I think what is best known about my country (that’s actually true anyway) is our near-rabid enduring love of ice- and snow-based sports. They’re not for everyone, but I must say if you’ve never played a game of street hockey and had to yell “CAR!” and move the nets/net substitutes out of the way, you haven’t lived.

This poem is about the kids that get out there on the ice and have fun.

Snoopy and Woodstock really are driving a Zamboni. That isn't my imagination. YES.

The Canadian Pastime

The smell of chlorine permeates
Every room, every corridor,
While the cacophony rises from
The vast sheet of ice.
Children swarming like bumblebees
Slipping, falling, chasing.

At once, a shot! And both teams
End in a heap in one net;
Each player their own goal,
The puck nowhere in sight.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

Also, I will try to keep to a schedule of posting Tuesdays and Fridays. Who knows how long that’ll last. 😛

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