October Sky by Sandy Hiss

In the crisp October morning, the
daily ritual begins. Formations of 
fog creep slowly along riverbanks
and granite headstones. Fallen leaves 
tremble in their presence, gathering 

their golden children in from the cold. 
An auburn squirrel selfishly packs its 
jaws with acorns, storing them for the
future. Sleeping soldiers dream of 
family and apple pie, awakened in spurts

by nightmares that dance atop their 
graves. Demons wave tattered flags and 
nickel buttons glazed in foreign blood.
The soldiers rub their blurry eyes to see 
the world clearly, as they knew it, in 

light. They see nothing but dark. Old 
wounds lie stagnant, bandaged by dust and 
purple hearts. They repeat their names, 
hoping to be heard; to be remembered. 
Above, the wrinkled sky listens and cries.

Sandy Hiss has always been intrigued by haunted houses, ancient cemeteries, forests, gardens, and abandoned buildings. She currently resides in Southern California with her husband and two children.