Snowbirds have lots of winter friends,
And, in comnon, all have one thing:
They head south until the snow ends
And go north again in the spring.
They come from all the northern states,
Leaving their families behind,
But down south, more “family” waits,
Where they’ve bonded with their own kind.
Most are now in retirement,
Enjoying the best of seasons,
Under the sun, they’re quite content,
And for frostbite, see no reason.
They like to lounge around the pool
With people in their own age group,
Complaining that water’s too cool -
Most like it steaming like hot soup.
All about their ailments they talk,
Their latest surgery and such.
About their pains and aches they squawk,
And why their drugs should cost so much.
They relate the exciting news
On “early bird specials” they found;
Or the laxative that they use
To keep bowels from getting bound.
In the clubhouse, many play whist,
And, others, shuffleboard outside.
Latest gossip, some can’t resist,
Secrets are difficult to hide.
These several months, they enjoy,
Until, in the north spring has come;
And then they take off in convoy,
With a sigh of relief from some.
The “locals”, glad to see them go,
As life returns to normal pace,
No waits at restaurants they know,
No more gridlock everyplace.