Tribute to Tyger

In a tournament of mud and cinders
Tyger Johnson rides a bicycle,
and runs.
When the sky turns cold, sun
and slate, he rides, dis-
mounts, runs, his bicycle slung
over his shoulder, like a bandolier
or quiver of arrows.
When he was young
Cyclo-cross
was young. They said
Magnificent, a word like speed,
grace, agility, endurance--not much,
failing to capture the great thing,
which is the life of the body,
which nobody understands.
He is an old man now, but still
he runs, like the animal
for which he is named. I got old,
with luck you will get old,
and soon, but for Time,
Tyger is a master of courtship.
Watch him! Uphill
and down, indestructible
runner--indestructible 
for another decade,
two—why not
three more? Poor
words, magnificent,
indestructible--but until we learn
to body-forth praise
wordlessly, the way athletes
pass their secret knowledge
each to each, just say
Salute,
Tyger Johnson, 
Salute.

©Daniel Dahlquist