Winter’s Quiet Journey
16”x12” oil on linen panel
Beneath the heavy hush of falling snow, the red truck lumbers on, old and faithful, winding its way down the lonesome road—tracks carved fresh into the wide, white nothingness of winter. The sky hangs low, a sullen gray pressing on the brittle grasses, their golden ghosts poking through the frost like whispers of life gone by. Bare trees, gaunt and patient, stretch their bony fingers toward the endless quiet, watching, waiting. The truck rattles forward, a wandering soul carrying its mysteries in the bed of time, its purpose unspoken but felt. The moment hangs suspended, fragile and fleeting, a snowy hymn in the vast cathedral of the world.
