While digging through some poetry anthologies that I own, I discovered a poem about fossils and geology. As such, I decided to post this poem do to its unusual content (I've never read a poem about fossils before):

Fossils

by Arthur J. Stewart

I come down across stones lightly,

a part of them. Sandstone, shale

something else that's old-bone white -

perhaps the granite knows.

(The translation of time from stone

to stone

takes time. Things

move slowly.)

Trilobites mix quietly with small fishes.

Coal knows more by far than I.

Anthracite blinks in the sun,

smiling sleepily, thinking deeply of seed-ferns.

There as a time when things

fought to the death to decide

whether a clutch of eggs

would bear scales or feathers

But now, Archaeopteryx is just

a clumsy arrow bent in sandstone,

with a three or four-chambered heart

that still sighs with your ear held close.

--Ben