The Heritage Classic

The artist paints the blue seen, the moonlit gaze left green by “The Midnight Summer's Stream”
 
Dancing pins of interest was the essence of God's challenge, his win your sin.
 
Down below a loon walks the night of the moons corridor, shore lunch near and eyes that never fear.
 
The pretense seen was bliss, a rippled moonlit kiss from the night of clouds hands, whispering in the wind and breathing the late night drive-in.
 
Down from above the whistle blows and the toad sounds by a leap to pond, from the leaf that left feet before the rest of battle.
 
The moon was swallowed after a short while, for it was known and it was time to rest. There has been enough time now for the catch, while no clock set the whistling wind blows.
 
Upward eyes almost hypnotize the moon. The stars rewarding the shower coloring the night from battle, once before sailor's delight.
 
The battle was done and thanks was sung. For many happy no longer starving the kill. This hunt of sport strengthens nature of all in one way, we are to learn how it stands above us all.
 
Upward to down a leaf falls like a crown, from tree of sky. By a drip of sweet, the maple landed on it's feet to steer the river bend.
 
The moon light was no longer a net, for the lands of the sky were seen as a moment of peace, a sizable offer, the “Canadian Maple Leaf.”
 
Variable viable words cannot describe the frigid air, left by feet and taken by branch. A battle rested the symbol of strength and sweet ugly feet were now seen in victory, with no longer a catch, a drop, just floating river by and God's net was caught.
 
All living watched and rejoiced, the float by calming once battle, by green and red we see the bled of sweat, the new and each stone touched has something new.
 
The loon was and is still watching this all, harmony seen, standing tall with the right. For the record, the score keepers call. Let us not forget a leaf floating downstream is something more than just time seen.
 
Our maple still floating down river, with a touch of rock to recover best and if words could talk our loon would gracefully mock your thought.
 
On this night of balance we find something wrong. Nature asks you “what took you so long?”
 
The ducks lose one nothing and the Canadians win by a leaf floating downward in a loons game at the Heritage Classic!