We then zipped up parkas for the first time,
Left dead trees. No more lemon no more lime.
Alligators dead in three feet of snow;
blood too cold, became rocks in this clime.
The miles that we traveled further south.
No place warm. Everyone with scarf to mouth.
Headless snowmen and mute snowman babies-
effigies- Shamans praying for a drouth.
*update: This poem ended up being a finalist for the day 18 thirty day napowrimo challenge at writers digest.