THE PADDLERS
Clayton Anderson Bell
Young and in their very prime
Their racing paddles keeping time,
On count of four, paddles swing,
Canoes slicing, waters sing.
Miles fly by, and by again
Shorelines change, the daylight wanes,
Muscles ripple as pain begins,
Strokes increase the will to win.
These men of the northern lights,
Fight the winds both day and night.
Waves wash in, no fear they make,
These paddlers strive for higher stakes.
Bow and bow to the finish line,
Paddles rip the water’s brine,
Win or lose men paddle forth,
All who live and love the north.
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