Ice Cream

Think summer, how
you would cool hot nights
with a giant, dripping cone
of ice cream.

Make me remember the imaginary:
a zone
of silence, an island of pure, unadulterated calm,
the intricate
machineries by which it shall be achieved;

and also those voices, that evolving chuckle, an enticing,
cheerful invitation: like starting something new,
a new relationship, the entrance
of an electric intensity into our environment;
It is as if it has come from another world
to dissipate whatever gloom has accumulated.

So now we have winter,
and warnings
that more snow is expected.
I shiver, but foresee
the future
(a foretelling in a picture post-card softness):
one more brief flurry until the clarity
of Springtime, and the savory
flavor of vanilla.