Springtime in the Cerny swamp summons faces. Trees wood springs up after a slumber, sticking out of the forest bed like a nail in a board. Frogs serenade soothingly, eager to find love. Birds boast about their winter travels, some bragging about staying in Wisconsin while the rabbits daintily dance, letting their limbs slide through the soft air and sunlight like a spoon through spicy soup. “Springtime has arrived,” yell the rabbits “and with it many familiar faces!”

Summer rolls onto Cerny Swamp, and the water has lowered to inches. The trees blossom and begin to bring fruit to the animals who eat it so eagerly. They swallow seeds. The mosquitoes are thick like mud that sprinkles from the sky. The twigs snap sharply with every step like an old man trying to deadlift. My nose dances as the smell of Earth rises to my face. The birds have been singing nonstop while squirrels scurry from tree to tree. A woodpecker sends a message in morse code “S U M M E R - H A S - R O L L E D - A R O U N D.“

Fall crashes onto the Cerny Swamp like a heavy mat. It shoves down the plants and smothers the noises and scents filling the summer. The apple tree struggles to hold on to his leaves, burdened by the blanket of crisp cool fall. The grasses and wildflowers attempt to hopelessly hoist fall. They are exhausted and collapse and turn yellow from the struggle. The squirrels dance upon the blanket of dead grass and hot hued leaves, gracefully loading nut into tight holes below the heavy fall mat. The squirrels, with mouths full of nuts, energetically mumble out “F-all is ‘ErE! bRace yOurseLves f-or Win’er!”

Winter sneaks into the Cerny Swamp like a raccoon in the middle of the night. The cold is frail like an old man after an intense day of bingo. The foot of white fluff that covers the frozen water sparkles with excitement. A white substance is sprayed out of the sky, giving the animals frosty facials. The winters are frigid but beautiful snow lights up the forest around the swamp. The prints of hooves are sprinkled on the snow as deer dance between trees. Foxes crunch the snow strutting through the barren air. The ice startles when it realizes Winter snuck up and knocked it out cold. All residents of Cerny sleep calm in nature’s night.

Many seasons later and the Cerny Swamp has died. Its body rots with concrete and brick buildings all alike. Plastic executioners have long since stopped the sound. The animals have left, or died trying to stay. Plants hardly faired better, facing floral genocide, their bodies being pulled apart, their corpses smeared with ink for angry men to read. Billows of smoke spill in the sky, no cleanup crew to help. Unfortunately for all, this happens all the time, seasons become irrelevant, as nature fills with grime.