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