Poem-A-Day: Day 101

Reflections on Olympic Hockey

Shines like a diamond in the mouth of a roughy
swimming deep below the surface of belief,
and the fins are a slapping five finger sting
leaving the glowing red maple leaf mark
on the cold surface floor, flooring the
everything that has, or ever will be.

Critics claim in their critically acclaimed ways
that miracles happen miraculously every
thirty years or so. But counting eggs
before they’ve hatched has never
been the thing of thinking sharp,
despite the fight, the fight is
worth it, in every way.