Light plays on the distant wooded hillside,
as shadows move slowly,
painting dark stripes on land and lake.
The sun lights fire to an oak, then a dogwood...
as if someone tossed a match on gas-soaked trees.
Then, as quickly as the blaze flares up,
it is extinguished by a passing shadow.
In this beauty, fleeting though it is, we see glimpses of our loving Creator,
the Light of the World, but unlike what we see,
our Maker does not change.
His glory never fades; He is always faithful.
Every good and perfect gift is from above,
coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights,
who does not change like shifting shadows.