Thursday, December 10, 2015



After we'd taken students to the roadcut,
the one below the TKE house
(as if such a small school should even
do the greek thing), for a few years,
the gray bank was getting played out:
you could find small bryozoans,
but few other fossils; the only snails
were modern, not Cretaceous;
the closest they'd come to a
mosasaur was to slime a vertebra.

So we moved on, to the roadcut
south of the landfill (amber Baculites
& bored oysters), the one on U.S. 11
just N of town (the miniature urchin
Boletechinus mcglameryi, named for
the female paleontologist who explored
the area, traveling by train), and more.

But each juicy spot was exhausted
in its turn; even 56” of rain per year
wasn't enough for renewal.
Too many knew.

End of poem

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