Castro, #31

I imagine the player –
The boy, peering through the mask
A homesick son from East Minnesota
Where days are cold and nights are colder

I imagine his eyes –
And flickering eyelids, blinking back tears
Seeing the puck come in once again
Passing… shooting… scoring.

I imagine the distance –
The space between a save and a goal
The bus ride from Minnesota to Michigan
And the even longer skate to the bench after letting in 5

I imagine a mother –
Sitting at home, waiting for a call
For stories of triumph and pain
To meet it with the warmth of that sun, unwillingly concealed by January skies