The Rising and the Setting

The Vix and I are burning the candle late at the office this evening; together, we watch the sun melt into an ochre puddle behind the pines.  I whisper a little prayer of gratefulness to The Giver each time I realize how fortunate I am indeed to be employed within eyeshot of such beauty. 

My fortunes have turned in my favor for working here, for I've previously found myself employed within the confines of the structural equivalent of a lightless dungeon.  I would rather pull my small toenails off with children's safety scissors than repeat such an experience.  Humans need some connection to the wheel of the seasons, and to the cycles of natural light and shadow. 

Man-made beauty is awe-inspiring, I think, but God-beauty is essential.