Frost at Midnight and 67 Degrees

The frost performs it's secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry
Came loud - and hark, again! loud as before
the inmates of my cottage, all at rest,
Have left me to that solitude, which suits
Abtruser musings. . .

~Samuel Taylor Coleridge

[.full poem.]

Is there anything so beautiful as a peace that disturbs with it's strange and extreme stillness? I recently told a friend that I have learned to enjoy the little things in life: the light dancing through ice cubes in a glass of mint-tinged iced tea, the smell of lialics on my window sill in the morning, and the feeling of freshly starched sheets to hot and weary feet.
God has surrounded us with things aesthetically beautiful and pleasing to the eye and mind, and yet we try so hard to imitate them with other, less beautiful, less desireable things. One would reather watch a comedy on television than have a hilarious conversation among friends; enjoy the cool of air conditioning set to 67 derees rather than the rays of the afternon sunshine; enjoy a Coke full of fizz and sugar rather than pure, clean water, the molecules arranged by the Maker Himself. There's nothing intrinsically wrong with comedy television or Coca-Cola, but I caution you: are you replacing somthing important in your life with somthing the world advertises as better than what God has made and given you?
As long as God is my guide I shall not want, He gives me exactly what I need, and maybe that means that I can be satisfied with the conversations, the weather, and the water He has deemed it fit to give me for right now, rather than trying to spice it up with somthing I find more exciting. Maybe I'll enjoy the quiet moments, and watch the icicles quietly shining to the moon.
What world is this, what kingdom are we trying to create that has imitations that we consider better than what the Light of Men has gifted us with?