The maker of a type of trace fossil stakes his (or her) claim to fame:
As fast as I make burrows
To hide from all my foes,
This blooming silt backfills them.
Ah well, that’s life I s’pose.
At least they are a record
Of my travels here and there
For you to find in future.
But I wonder if you’ll care?
I know you types: enraptured
By anything with shells on,
Not boring old trace fossils.
You like your finds with bells on.
But traces can be useful:
They help you orient
The layers that I dug through
In ancient sediment.