Shared Delight

Old for his sport, and desperate to reclaim
the medal he lost four years ago,
he pushes off and soars across the ice,
watched by the crowd as his board
plunges, then lifts;
he flies above us all -- Icarus, in his waxed wings
was never closer to the sun --
and then swoops down,
gathering velocity as the spiral
swirls, descends to rise again, and turn --
two quick rotations in the air,
then one more spin to land and drop again
into the depths and out and up and higher still,
the twist and thrust into the chill of air and sky and blue and glide
and landing as we hold our breath,
the scrape of blade, the flame of snow,
fists raised in proud salute,
and skidding to a blazing crystal stop to wait,
anticipation, exultation, knowing he did well,
all magnified a hundred fold
by the winning of the gold;
and sinking to his knees he gasps, inhales,
and rises howling to the stars.

Seeing his tears, the watching hearts expand,
the wonder of the moment shrills across our eyes,
responsive fires glitter, mirror neurons tearing up in shared delight.