In January
even the river
dreams of going to the moon
after the ice breaks,
a chilly ink of spring thaw
plotting some way to launch
its rocky bottom
into weightless night. The current
tells of children who
make wishes, who fly on carpets,
who embrace a snowy day
while the old year folds
itself into a tiny
fist, grasping light from
winter’s narrow lot to make
stars that dance on water.
Laurel Smith lives in Vincennes, Indiana, and happily volunteers to promote community gardening, social awareness, and creativity. Her poems have appeared in various journals, including Natural Bridge, New Millennium Writings, English Journal, Tipton Poetry Journal, and Flying Island; also in the following anthologies: And Know This Place; Mapping the Muse; Visiting Frost.