Scarab

I've been distressed how frequently The Writer's Almanac features crappy poetry. While digesting this, I came across "The Philosophy of Shit" (Taoism: shit happens; Zen Buddhism: shit is, and is not; Hinduism: this shit has happened before, etc).

Of course, manure is necessary in the life cycle and dung beetles play a large part, as they roll animal waste away and bury brood balls to feed their young.

In ancient Egypt this was symbolized by the Beetle God Khepri, who was believed to roll the sun across the sky. Scarab amulets were placed on mummy hearts to profess them so unburdened of sin and corruption they would balance against truth's feather and enjoy the eternal afterlife.

This is my own brood ball.

Scarab

The beetle god of ancient Egypt
rolled the sun across the sky,
his sacred efforts so eternal
Scarab amulets bode immortality:

a mythic mirroring of earthly work.

Scarabaeidae form balls
of excrement to eat or roll
home for their brood
and fecundate the land.

Are writers not the same?
Scriveners Scarabaeidaeus
feed on cherished forms of ordure
(some, particular, seek carrion),

and sweat, struggle, bury crap
to keep it moist and brood upon,
fertilize each year
a ton of reader nutrients.