I am the muzzled voice of a million-year-old granite.

I am a cluster of pitcher plants surrounded by unknown vines.

I am a small clear pool reflecting the colours of early life.

I am timeless.

The sea and I have been lovers for a very long time.

Birds, berries, bugs, barrens, bogs, beasts,

One hundred centuries ago the ice left me,

A silent witness to change.

I am Owl’s Head, hold me close.

Poem by Christopher Trider

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