The streets are rutted from ice and packed snow after snow and freezing cold.
Old man winter gives us a challenge in getting places.
Stuck in a rut – wheels spinning – aggravation.
Imagine living in a place where the roads are always like this.
Some do in those far away lands.
Some do in those deeper inner dark landscapes.
They get stuck, break down, and curse.
Or they kick the burro who also gets tired.
Whose your burro?
I like to hear that coming promise of easier going.
Every valley (depression) shall be lifted up,
Every mountain (obstacles) and hill made low,
The crooked straightened out and the rough smoothed over.
The snow melts.
Can’t come soon enough.
Spring is coming – the big Spring and new life abundant.
It always gets better after it was worse.
Your phots and poem are kind of an analogy of sin and salvation, lent, Good Friday and Easter. One song I remember said, “Sunday is coming!”
Linda