Crunch, crunch, crunch

Usually you have to “stop and listen”
to hear nature’s tell-tale sounds.

Not so in the swamp with its dry season.

That tell-tale sound is the “crunch”
of your shoe soles on top the desiccated
stubs of the dried out marl prairies.

Plus in the case of this one it had been previously burned.


As for what you hear when you actually “stop and listen?”

Answer: “The absence of crunches.”

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