Spring Poem

It's about six weeks until Spring, but we have a sunny day and brutal winds.

As promised, here is a poem by Dave Smith:

The Spring Poem

 Everyone should write a spring poem—Louise Glück

 

Yes, but we must be sure of verities

 such as proper heat and adequate form.

 That’s what poets are for, is my theory.

 This then is a spring poem. A car warms

 its rusting hulk in a meadow; weeds slog

 up its flanks in martial weather. April

 or late March is our month. There is a fog

 of spunky mildew and sweaty tufts spill

 from the damp rump of a backseat. A spring

 thrusts one gleaming tip out, a brilliant tooth

 uncoiling from winter’s tension, a ring

 of insects along, working out the Truth.

 Each year this car, melting around that spring,

 hears nails trench from boards and every squeak sing.

 

-Dave Smith