Flu

She sleeps

golden hair streaming on the pillow behind her,

tiny hand resting, innocent, quiet.

My youngest, spirit indomitable

brave in the face of fever

Facing down the swine that has come

Unwelcome to our house.

Her perfect skin is flushed pink with heat.

More beautiful, even, than the serene glow of good health.

Eyes flutter when I hover above her,

Feeling her forehead, listening for her breathing, reassuring myself.

Half of my life’s treasure there.  The other half at school.  Undaunted, unhaunted for now.

Thank you

for trusting me to care for you.  For dutifully blowing your nose and drinking your water

when you don’t want to.

Perhaps tonight we will sleep sweetly.