Summer Dawn

 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.

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