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Apr 2017
the Mississippi starts small,
at the headwaters.

A child can cross
stone to stone, almost slipping
into cold water.

Sometimes they do fall,
but stumbling and soaking wet,
they finish crossing.

Now, these blue-gray stones
and clear rippling currents still
sound like their laughter.
Day 1 of National Poetry Month.
Laura Slaathaug
Written by
Laura Slaathaug  North Dakota
(North Dakota)   
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