Spring

Coiled,
tightly wound,
a steady source
for tick-tick-ticking.

No rare earths to mine,
no sun needed to shine,
no petrol station,
no radiation.

Charged carbon-free
by elbow grease,
a spring-powered car
on a three-year lease!

155/365

A version of this poem first appeared on Bluesky. Whispered into the acoustic sensors of the sleeping dreaming android, it prompted the electric sheep to generate one more tomorrow…

© 2025 Greg R. Fishbone, generated by MidJourney as a derivative work of the poem, "Spring" by Greg R. Fishbone