One autumn evening, I went on a walk with my nephew through the woods in search of small gods. The boy, slipping along the multi-colored ground, found truth in the way the leaves broke from the branch and floated to the path. He said they are losing, but not lost.
Jack Galati is a writer living in Arizona. He has fiction and poetry published across a number of magazines and journals.
Mesmerizing!
Beautiful!
Really beautiful, took me back to when i used to take a small blond haired cherub out into the woods with me.