A swarm of heads and torsos
Glide from limb to graceful limb
Across the icy playground
No particular place to be.

With every revolution
There’s joy in repetition
A holiday from life’s worries
A world away from care.

The mastery of balance
The pleasure of movement finds
Pure expression on the skating rink
Be ye young or old or grey.

What’s carefree is taken to be
The most natural thing there ever was
But consider this, ice skating
Is an ingenious technology:

No inclines to contend with
Nor dangerous downhill speeds
Ice won’t melt into big puddles and
The bears won’t chase you ‘way.

Artificially frozen ice
Perfectly level on the run
Receives the skater’s streamlined blade
Without quarrel or complaint.

Though you may have heard otherwise,
Of our little planet Earth
Just ask a skater and they’ll tell you
‘The world’s flat not round it’s true!’