Three generations of my family have been visiting Saskatchewan and Manitoba every fall as hunters since the 1940’s.
And the most memorable part of every trip is the wonderful hospitality of the great folks who live in the prairie provinces.
When we learned of the horrible crash we were heart-broken.
I wrote the enclosed poem and was encouraged to send it to you.
My sincerest condolences to the grieving families and your community as a whole.
Sandhill cranes, ducks and geese leaving every year before the
Ice arrives
Shoveling off a rink at the south end of the marsh
Where the cattails have not yet conquered and the
Muskrats still post occasional sentinels
Then playing and colliding and learning and scoring and
Winning and losing
With skates not so great
Brothers, sisters, neighbours, cold
This, I suspect, is akin to how their young senses and hearts first came to the
Mystique and traditions of hockey
Today, a group of strangers gather on a chilly morning
Near a flower cross placed by the Mounties
At the crossroads
Where very bad things can happen as the blues say and the
Devil knows
Though for a bit still full of diesel droplets and bog moss specs
The winds of the prairie provinces will forever carry and remember the
Spirits, good deeds and glue of the
2018 Humboldt Broncos
