HOCKEY HEAVEN- A Winter Road Hockey Poem

Reader Joe Santi – a 50-something goalie – sent this in tonight.

HOCKEY HEAVEN
by Tarzana Joe

photo thanks to Tom Purves

I remember it so clearly
As if it were tomorrow
On the best day of December
Seven from the end
(I was eleven)
And a soft snow began to fall as daylight disappeared
And we could see, my friends and I,
That this was no ordinary snow
No, this was perfect, packing snow
The kind that comes only once or twice in a childhood
The kind that made monstrous snowmen
(You know that snow)
The kind that didn’t stick to gloves or melt through mittens
It made baseball-size snowballs with ease
Ones that could be tossed with pinpoint accuracy
At telephone poles or kids from the next street
 
And this same snow, when tromped down by bald, buckled galoshes
Made our dead end street into a hockey rink
No skates—just sliding boots and sneakers.
And we played that night
By streetlight
As the TV-special snow dusted down
Hockey between the curbstones
Hockey between the trashcan goalposts
And we never rested
And we never tired
Way past our bedtimes
And we’re playing still
And our parents never called us in
As if they sensed the perfection of
That snow
That game
That night
 
And if you are eleven
(Or ever were eleven)
Then this, my friends, is heaven
This, my friends, is heaven.
And those of you who doubt
The things you knew at seven
Then this is proof of heaven
This is proof of heaven
 
And, oh, my friends back then
Bruce and Ray and Kevin
Remember this with me
When we all return to heaven.