There’s no snowpack.
It’s pretty scary.
Here we are.
It’s January.
Mountain snow
is what we drink.
Time to worry ––
don’t you think?
It’s time to act,
so I’ll begin.
I’ve ordered in
supplies of gin.
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I love to read poem stories like this. They fit my attention span. And it has an unexpected twist at the end. Clever.
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This is very clever and fun.
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