My sleeping children are still flying dreams 
 in their goose-down heads. 
The lush of the river singing morning songs 
Fish watch their ceilings turn sun-white. 
The grey-green pike lances upstream 
Kale, like mermaid's hair 
 points the water's drift. 
All is morning hush 
 and bird beautiful. 

I only, 
 I didn't have flu.