Dear John

For Jeanette, and of great purpose.

I'm looking to the summer
for a stiff breeze at the lakeside.
Some summers disappoint
But others, oh others can satisfy.

I'm looking to the fall for
a dusting of snow to cover the tarmac.
It's a whim, I know, but
you know how ideas take hold.

To winter, to winter.
The screeching of dying brakes
on icy roads. Fear
keeps the heart young, taken sparingly.

I'm looking to spring,
my dear John. The icy
ground has done its purpose.
I'm ready for the melt.