In the Fall we hear the call of the wild soul within
In the Fall we heed the call of the wild soul within
Costumed, cavorting, candy and candles
Welcoming children to our homes
Hearing their laughter
Embracing their creativity
The wild soul soars
then we delve
into the darkness
The mystery
and dare to peek
beyond the veil
this is the gift of Fall.
Leaves show off their new costumes
and then let go of their home branches
Teaching us the freedom.
of flight
and return.
This season is called Fall for a reason
and we revel in the falling...
Bio: Carolyn Wolfe is a writer, poet and author of twelve books that include five illustrated children's books, three original poetry collections, two novelettes, as well as two original collections of short stories. Writing is her passion and that includes both works of fiction and also non-fiction essays, blogs and articles. She is currently living in the Shenandoah Valley with her many animal companions.
about.me/carolyn.wolfe
Pandora’s Feet of Clay
by Kim Hazelwood
It was too much
The leagues of connectivity
To this thing.
Condensed but all spread out
The spidery box of blanketed illusions.
Certain morning dew lacings sometimes glorified the vision
Little provinces, cross-stitched districts, widths of perfection
With the beasties all nicely tidied up.
All along the serpentine, slithering,
Foxing beats in cruelest narratives,
Coiled and cocked for obliterating,
Too many shysters in the sun.
What kind of blackguard
Thrives on hate so multiplied
Surely, they must get bored,
With all the shadowing wreckage,
All the new inconvenient problems created.
Money and Power
How many billions do they really need?
We just wanted Honey and Flowers
Boasts the backyard ghosts.
A thundering yen for what used to be!
Oh the comfort of just before,
Just before~
Hell’s Bells broke loose.
A plead, a repeal for
The weaves and ease of workaday kindliness,
Basic dawn to dusk peace.
For love.
But so much destruction had infiltrated
Both property and minds,
With no place to hide.
You see, those eyes were always watching,
Everywhere.
Where could it all end?
These rat’s nests of humanity.
With countless boorish derelicts in world scale malfeasance.
It was just too much
Pandora simply couldn’t control it.
She panicked and punted
Hoped to escape, tried to flee afield.
Into the bargain-tripping, slipping, buckling,
Under her bedrock feet of clay.
Bio: Kim lives in the Shenandoah Valley and is the editor and founder of The Green Silk Journal.
Her second book of poetry, Jungle Light was published in 2025. She has been published in Macrame and Basilisk Tree and most recently in Rundelania.
