174/365: I Am Sleeping

I lay down in a creek bed
in a forest of redwoods
twenty-five years ago.
I heard the water loud
in the shell of my ears
where it rose,
and I watched the sky,
clouded and dull,
move along with the current.
Part of me never got up,
never slogged back through soft loam
in water-logged shoes.
I am still there in the water,
an impressionable stone in the current,
and, when I remember,
the water still tells me
I am sleeping.

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