Lowcountry Not Snowcountry
Humidity is smeared through every molecule.
Whitewashed cotton cumulus dab back droplets.
Isolated from fair winds ,
Roasted willows deep fry in a vat of steaming marsh.
Lizards undercover in a slice of shade cut from a nearby palm.
Frogs beckon grogily for any burst of moisture.
SnowCountry eagily awaits a sultry summer day.
LowCountry welcomes a quiet,crisp winter.
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