by Timothy Zibell

As leaves did fall from crowns of trees sublime,
He watched with love, their flights about the scene.
With grace they flew from lofty love to grime,
He thought of love not lost, but purely seen. 

Alone his gaze admired that deathly fall, 
And yet he loved their end as much as life. 
For beauty breathed in young and old and all, 
Perfect creation still through peace and strife. 

His hair was fallen long, as now did leaves. 
His autumn came and there alone he stood,
His aging gaze met only leaf and breeze.
Without despair he met that weeping wood. 

His love awaiting him he soon would meet.
To him no crown compared to fall so sweet.

Timothy Zibell is an Alaska-born writer, and is currently a Junior at Colorado Christian University. Timothy was raised in the village of Noorvik Alaska, and this unique experience has shaped his relationship with the Lord. Timothy believes that God speaks through writing often, and writing is one of the primary ways he spends time in prayer and reflection.

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