Highway 14 North, N.S.

We left Lunenburg late,
with the hopes of making
Annapolis by nightfall.
1/4 the way there, we decided to turn back.
We can't make it, we thought.
Instead
we set off north, towards Truro.
The falling sun sparked the trees,
and we laughed on the darkening road.
We passed nary a soul for hours
as we wound through the inland,
music rolling gentle, voices sparse.
Every once in a while,
if we went over a good hill,
our headlights would illuminate
the upper parts of the falltime trees.
And once,
between music and pauses of thought,
we saw a flash of golden leaf.
We arrived in Truro dark,
too late for leaving,
no closer to home.

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