Limestone

I stand upon a beach,

Gone three hundred million years ago,

I can’t imagine water covering,

The mountains that I know.

But I see the ledge of limestone,

With the sandstone overlay,

And I see the fossilized shells,

The remains of those days.

Bits of ancient coral,

And crinoids in rounds,

With little globs of sponges,

Among the stones that I have found.

Shelves and reefs of brachiopods,

Lie scattered all around,

So many pressed and massed into stone,

Just waiting to be found.

And I think of Kentucky,

And all we’re known for,

And much of it we wouldn’t have,

Without this ancient shore.

The stone which I know tread,

And use upon my farm,

Are what makes this state who we are,

And gives our state its charm.

Could we produce such horses,

Without our limestone to strengthen bone?

The minerals leaching into the soil,

Doesn’t just help them alone.

The largest grower of cattle,

On the Mississippi’s eastern side,

They grow to be fat and fit,

Because of ancient tides.

The Bourbon that we’re known for,

Would not taste near so sweet,

Without limestone springs,

Sweetened by the stones beneath my feet.

Think of our karst topography,

Our great and wondrous caves,

Lying hidden underneath the land,

Where the thick growing bluegrass waves.

As much as I love Kentucky,

Our magical mystical state,

I’m reminded it’s those ancient seas,

That determined for us our fate.

So, here’s to the lowly brachiopod,

The crinoid and trilobite,

All those long gone and their long gone sea,

That produced such a lovely sight.