So far, it’s still cold enough in these parts to make this true.

Not a care given,
To culicine and their kin,
A gift from Winter.

“Freedom from the itch,
And the nagging high pitched whine,
But oh to be warm. “

Never without pain,
You can choose your discomfort,
And dress as needed.

“Yeah, so my wife says,
Yet clad in many layers,
Warmth still eludes me. “