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Here We Come a Fossiling

 Here We Come a Fossiling
                                           by Donna Cole
 This poem was first published in the Summer 1997 edition of the
 Fossilphile newsletter of North Coast Fossil Club ,
 Cleveland, OH.
 T'was time for a field trip and all through the houses
 All the members were packing and calming their spouses;
 The backpacks were packed up and loaded with care
 In hopes that the fossils would really be there.
 Those rockhounds were nestled all snug in their beds
 While visions of Trilobites danced in their heads.
 They'd polished their hard hats and packed their sunscreen,
 And tried to foresee all the things unforeseen.
 When out of a sound sleep I woke with a start,
 Wondering if it's the time to depart.
 Away to the window I flew like a flash,
 Grabbing my chisel and hammer to smash.
 The moon still was shining, can this be for real?
 A carload of fossilers, all filled with zeal!
 Their eyes how they focused, their smiles full of zest,
 Their cheeks were all flushed as they pictured their quest.
 You'd best get a move on, came the command,
 They're out there, they're waiting to jump in your hand!
 Then in a twinkling I joined this odd grouping,
 With their digging, and sawing, and scraping, and stooping.
 Away to the quarry we drove with intent,
 We paused at the edge, then began our descent.
 As I climbed over boulders, scraping my shin,
 I pictured the treasure troves hiding within:
 The Gastropods, Cephalopods, Trilobites, Snails,
 The Crinoids and Blastoids, and tiny feet trails.
 From the top of the quarry to the lowest of washes,
 Wearing my sunscreen and sometimes galoshes,
 We brave all the hurdles from bee stings to rain,
 And comments from friends that we're all quite insane.
 Be that as it may, when the time rolls around,
 All of us die-hards will likely be found
 In places like road cuts, and creek beds, and quarries,
 Digging up fossils, and sharing our stories.
 Soon we will head home all dusty and tired,
 We'll think of the specimens we just have acquired.
 We'll store them in basements, and boxes, and cases,
 Ignoring the shocked looks on family faces.
 For a couple of weeks we'll be tranquil and docile,
 Then our eyes will glaze over when we hear the word Fossil.
 Then they'll hear us exclaim as we drive out of sight,
 Happy hunting to all; we'll be back Sunday night!
 Donna Cole
 North Coast Fossil Club
 May, 1997

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