roscid cossacks
riding hard under the morning stars
riding herd the morning stars
thundering through the withershigh grasses
thundering down the Scythian settlements
in the flatlands of the Volga delta

rancid cossacks
grappling with the mongolians
rumbling with the tatars
the thunder in the east
puts a damper on the early morning fight
lightning over the early morning fight
hunkered glowering across at each other by noon
nursing precious wounds
the stars of a thumped head
the bloodlust interruptus