Frost heaved remnant out on the plain,
Exposed to the weather and pounded by the rain.
Some sedimentary rock, from the bottom of a sea
Rose in swales to be collected as debris.

Senseless journeys that churn the soil,
They leave no trace and are absent turmoil.
They anchor the prairie and provide an edge,
For life seeking substance, boldly claiming a hedge.

A witness to history, silent and strong
An observer half buried, no right and no wrong.
Wind and rain work eons shaping a face
That speaks no words to spoil the place.

– Clarence Holm

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