CURLING
We’ve been watching the Provincials,
a fun thing to see
Each team trying so very hard to win,
exciting as could be.
It seems sometimes the smooth rock
has a will of it’s own,
And I marvel at the great skill by
all the curlers shown.
A gentle flick of the wrist sends it
going this way or that,
When they let go the handle is also
where the skill is at.
I’m sure the concentrated look will
tell it where to go,
And the continued swan-like grace
after a great throw.
The yelling and the screaming could
confuse the poor old rock,
And it’s stops where they want it to,
it dare not mock
The skip, the thrower or the sweepers
it must obey,
Flying down the smooth ice so fast to
swipe other’s all away.
Whoa! Hard! Yes! More! Is heard
everywhere around,
How does that poor rock know which is
his particular sound?
I love to watch the sweepers as they slide
gracefully, working well,
Making to go farther along the ice or just
giving it more curl.
You watch with anxious baited breath,
your mind in a whirl.
Round Robin they play until the great
battle is lost or won
Every team should get a prize I feel for
all the work they’ve done.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson February 3, 2003