"The Spring Poem"

When this weekend ends, my life will resemble something sane again. Perhaps I will be a better blogger at that point. In the meantime, here is a poem:

The Spring Poem
Dave Smith

Every poet 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 sweat tufts spill
from the damp rump of the back seat. 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.