Hello and welcome to Cook and Crank, the Cosmic Poetry Podcast. I'm your host, Simon Pole, the Cosmic Poet. Cossacks deserve their own poem, don't they? And so does every man's desire to be one. And that's what we will get today on the podcast, a poem called Cossacks after the break. Cossacks The Cossacks gallop down my street, past my peaceful door, plunging horses swift and fleet make the heavens roar. This concrete byway is a plain, grasses tall and sharp, wave like dancers to the strain of the nomad's harp. I hear the clash, the ringing clash of both sword and lance, see their golden bridles flash as the ponies prance. Accept me, take me Cossack host, to your battles far, let me of my exploits boast when we feeble are, that when we wrap our bones at night I might spin a tail, how we sent the foe to flight and his charges fail, of how we turned his mast advance in a gully trapped, though in number great as ants, and with armor capped. But not contain a cossack's heart, none can douse its flame, or compel a hero part with his old man's fame. So let me ride in ranks foremost with the wildest steeds, and exchange my poor man's post for immortal deeds. I'm your cosmic poet and host, Simon Pole. Visit the website Simonpole.ca for more cosmic poetry, including the book we've just read from. We'll be back soon on the Cook and Crank Podcast with more readings from the Poems for Ocean Collection. Until then, remember, poetry is the water of life, though whiskey might be too. Goodbye.