I hate the humidity
I hate what it does
I hate wearing sunscreen
I hate all the bugs
I like the thirties
I like wearing gloves
But I also like the dirt leftover on my clubs
Mementos from courses I’ve hacked up with buds
And who doesn’t like sitting outside in the sun?
I’ll miss it to death to tell you the truth
Though winter’s cold breath over cocoa and soup
Whispers its gentle peacefulness to me
Simpler to escape the cold than the heat
A big sweater and cozy socks for the feet
Books and movies and lovely company
I think I can deal with the heat and the grubs
Half of the year I’ll be comfy and snug