The savvy artists know how to work it:
They flock to Florida for the winter circuit,
With visions of sundrenched fairs in their noggins
And balmy beaches instead of toboggans.
Then came January Twenty and Ten,
With temperatures dipping to freezing and then
The wind chill whipped it even lower,
Scaring off the most ardent art fair goer.
So there we were, huddled, bundled like Eskimos,
With fingers of purple and frost-bitten toes,
And pity the fool who brought only Bermudas
Even though the weatherman cued us.
But our displays were great and our spirits enormous—
Why, we had our true grit and our smiles to warm us!
