While the bitter snow bites and chills those in the north,
I lay sprawled across a hammock, swinging back and forth.

Lemonade in hand, condensation sliding down,
I’ve never had the pleasure of hearing sledding sounds.

My Christmas is much more colorful, not white and bleak and dead,
The skies are blue, the grass is green, and the Bougainvillea flowers are cherry red.

The air is sort of cool, mild temperatures all around,
The perfect kind of weather for a stroll across the town.

I’ve never built an igloo, or taken a snowball hit,
In fact, it’s stringy palm fronds that fuel my fire pit.

While others bundle up, layering scarfs and coats and boots,
The people in my city wear shorts and surf in wetsuits.

Shoveling a driveway seems like it would be a pain,
Good thing that for the driveway chalk drawings, I just have to wait for rain.

Why build a snowman, which can be a frigid hassle?
When you can bring your pail and sieve and build a beautiful sandcastle.

But still these two Christmases, despite being distinct,
Have a few features that can always be closely linked.

We both drink cocoa out of warm paper cups,
And purchase festive sweaters for our cute little pups.

Decorated trees reside in almost every single home,
Whether that be Miami, Tokyo, Berlin, or Rome.

And thus, the Christmas spirit, whether taking on hot or cold,
Will always have its place in our hearts, clinging on with an
everlasting hold.

So, while the others cough and sneeze, tubing down snow slides,
I’ll sip a virgin piña colada and enjoy a sandy sleigh ride.