Ice Hockey

(revised)

They're painters on skates

who brush and dab  a cold canvas

they whirl and glide on.

They're sleep-walkers

in pajamas, wandering

on a bright dream's stage--

everyone else in darkness,

looking on, transfixed.

Hornets and wasps

in snarling squads,

swarm out of the nest--

sent mad by one

black fly gliding among

them, a dark dot

playing dead, then jetting off.

"Ice Hockey," by Hans Ostrom

 Reading/video of my small contribution to the literature of ice hockey:

link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPNbp5Yw2uM

Ice Hockey

They are painters on skates,
brushing and dabbing the cold canvas
on which they glide and whirl.

They are sleep-walkers
in colorful pajamas, wandering
on the bright stage of a dream,
everyone else in darkness,
looking on, fascinated.

They are hornets and wasps
in dubious and snarling battle,
released in groups from their
nests, terribly distracted by one
black fly that moves among
them, a dark dot 

playing dead, then jetting off. 

hans ostrom 2017