Here on the sand lies crusty limulus,
the stalwart crab of the marine Old Right.
Untouched by any trendy stimulus,
our kind assesses change in clear, cold light
before once more deciding to hold tight.
You chose not to evolve or to rebel.
Resisting odd mutations served you well.
Last rites like these should have solemnity;
I’m sorry children frolic with your shell.
Let’s hope they are more somber when it’s me.
