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In January, a poem by Laurel Smith

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.