A resurrection of sorts
The kid was collapsing.
No hope is in sight.
His Open was shutting.
His knuckles were white.
The Ghost of Augusta
was gripping his throat.
We knew what was coming
while watching him choke.
And then Jordan rallied.
His passageway cleared.
His instant recovery
assuaged all our fears.
It’s one for the ages
(an Open now closed)
as one we watched dying
revived and arose.
My Rhymes and Reasons 