By Joan Connor

Vermont Bear is all-seeing. She sees beyond time, back to the creeping ice, carving the shallow seas, back before whale bones and mollusk shells. With her wise eyes, she watches land and rock fold and fault, shouldering up mountains. Her keen brown eyes take it all in and hold it there, fixing history, rugged as granite. If she had a name, it would be bedrock. But she does not have a name; she is just Vermont Bear.

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