Memory brings me to a time I played
On ice so cold and flat
Laced my skates, taped my stick
Buttoned on my helmet tight
Jersey worn proud and clean
Stretched about my back
Number on a team so strong
Hear the Cougars roaring loud
From the home team bench we’d sit.
A puck would be the object of
Bodychecks and blocking shots
Goalies were last defense
Set back in their crease to save the rest
Pass, slapshot, he shoots, he scores!
That’s how we’d win our games,
Hat trick, assists, winning goals,
The whole rink was on our side.
Then, exhausted, we’d all shake hands
Open a door in the boards
And head off to the locker room
To debrief and tuck our gear
Into hockey bags we’d pack off
Out into night’s frosty air.
Tag: cougars
Dusty Paths of Past, Present, and Future (day 732)
Pull at me and listen closely to my hum
I rock to a rhythm, smooth back and forth
Like well worn arches out on the porch
A motion that wears deep through my history
Bled out my pores of hairy callused skin
Drug over years of toil and pressures
Mechanically pushing back daisies
That dust the path of the past
My story runs deep, like the mighty Fraser Canyon
Rocky cliffs and small tufts of grass
Where wild big horn sheep roam the hills free
And Native Americans corral beautiful salmons
Into their chutes in the fall for smokings
A lunch for colder seasons ahead
Natural processes retained for years
I’ve taken mighty rapids, class 5 with no portage
Straight on with my birch bark canoe
I’ve trapped many animals: foxes, cougars, and rabbits
Some I’ve let go, others I’ve tanned to keep me warm
Through colder seasons, six feet of white snow
And after the deep winter I’ve found high plains
I’ve run wild and free with jubilant glee
Roaring my wild head like a stallion: head of the pack
Then in my moments of charge and conquering
I’ve been run off the edge like a wild buffalo herd
Sent to my death in a natural community grave
One houndred and fifty feet down for a rocky death
My minds eye has seen a crowd gather around
Watching while others start to throw their stones
The crow has brought fortune to the lands I’ve crawled over
Where feathers flow downward into hands of the elders
Placing their wisdom upon whispers into the wind
Which I’ve caught with long glances, two eyes half closed
But my third eye, wide open and listening
For the words spoken into the wind
There have been days, with un-clouded sun
Beating down at my back as I push dirt to and fro
I’ve brought life to earth: strong spruce and tall fir
Long have I pushed a farm’s herd in early spring
Rain has fallen, in sudden flash thunderstorms
Flooding my lands all around I’ve been harvesting
Taking away my stronghold, my safety and security
Plummeting me to my natures own demise,
Struggling away at the fast currents I’ve been
Pulling at my senses and drowning in murky waters
Where long have I been lost out at sea
I’ve found one strong hand that’s pulled me out to safety
Laying me flat out gurgling with the breakers
But upon this life raft, this boat of grace
I’ve spoken with the winds speaking back out at me
It is not for the weather that I’ve suffered so
But from my own intuition I’ve led onward ho!
Aghast, the disbelievers have stepped back in horror
Striking fear of the lord in me with forced penance
I’ve cried long and hard for my own forgiveness
But left out details and implications of all of my dirty deeds
Tomorrow I shall build up around in the dirt all around
A castle so mighty, it will sharpen my eye
I won’t burn bridges others so voluntarily fry
For with help it is forward in direction I fly
Begin it with laughter, in good tune does fast work go
And I shall remember as it’s forever where I’ll die