This is the 50th poem I've posted on DailyKos.com.
It is about a kossack named knitolitics.
My child spins and leaps.
She turns about,
her partner turns in counterpoint.
They fall, catch, roll and fly
in arcs and angles and ever-shifting images,
a flock of starlings, a school of fish.
A barn collapses inward on itself.
The gravid power of the Earth
pulls it down into the soil.
The dusty fragments of shooting stars
rain down at all times.
The dancers soar in seeming defiance of natural law.
They will surrender in time.
Before their spinning, falling illusion fades
I float on their shoulders.