Crust

The rocks themselves are fossils
Of a kind. What was that is.

Some have smaller rocks crusted,
Downstream in this tumbled wash,

That look at a glance like shells—
Themselves mostly mineral—

But are only pebbles glued
To each other by flash floods.

Can you spare a kindly thought
To waste on fossil-free rocks

With no gems or ores in them?
Earth’s easier to live with

For the brief, capacious life
A beast lives, if, as a beast

You can love how dull most is,
Boring and repetitive.

We ask this as minerals,
Dull future fossils ourselves.