When I reach the stream I crouch down. Pull out a flat rock and watch flathead mayfly nymphs scurry back to the dark face. Look back where I pulled the rock. Glimpse the rainbow flag of a darter frozen in its roofless home.
Under the log where I sit, I know there's an earwig guarding her hoard of pearly eggs. Perfect spheres promising more earwigs, rich brown with shiny black forceps.
My dreamworld is no dream.
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