September 15, 2003
By: Jim Dunlop
There’s excitement in the air for golfers in
For in April courses open, and folk may sally forth
To play on soggy fairways, among the leafless trees,
Their hands and faces frozen by an Arctic breeze.
Or we could be inside, all warm and dry and cosy,
Exclaiming at the dogwoods pink and azaleas rosy,
The emerald grass and bright blue sky and sand
So white and fluffy, of fair Augusta in a southern land.
Why should I brave the cold spring rain with other
To have the pleasure dubious, of playing eighteen holes,
With muscles stiff and fingers numb in a wretched ninety-seven
When I could be watching Mike Weir win in Georgia’s
Poem courtesy Jim Dunlop of Hamilton,