All is silent as a snow-swept rise
the skies wander from eddying white
to lights of blue and simmering gold
as cold as a breathless curtain of stars.
It’s here as the magic hour slowly fades
and braids soft blushes through the rustling leaves
that wreathes of rollicking laughter seem
to stream from the throat of an autumnal king.
For the gentle hill is the swell of his brow
and crowned by trees as crimson as rose
in throes of pale fire, his breath is the breeze
the trees are his staff, the meadows his cloak.
The world is sleeping and the leaves must fall
the scrawl of death’s touch stains all of creation;
yet he hastens, this gladsome, laughing king,
as his kingdom comes near and the world awakens.
Justin Kuiper
Justin Kuiper ’27 is from Holland, Michigan studying English literature at Hope College. His writing explores the many intersections of faith, storytelling, and the created order. When he is not writing, Justin enjoys reading, getting too competitive about professional soccer, and waxing poetic about the English countryside.