Peace

[Grace]

After a few beers, the game, and a couple laughs at the bar,
the boys and I like to head down to the pond for some midnight shinny.
 
Beneath a black sky and some old flood lights,
we fight over rubber with wooden sticks in falling snow,
warmed by the thoughtless sweat of war.

Good choice of title. There's a peaceful, light atmosphere to the poem. Snow  muffles sound . In that peace, "warmed by the thoughtless sweat of war". Excellent last line. I liked the tumble of clear images that told the  story.