In recognition of Canada Day
A reprise of a poem from 3 years ago
The world is out of sync
When one is not able to take
The Road Home
Every curve and hill and turn, from Martin Hill to Ol’ Mount Thom:
Every bend and hollow, each highway I ride upon:
The bridges, towns and villages, first glimpses of the sea,
All etched within the inner map that makes up what is me.
Every name on every sign is like a stepping stone
From where I’m setting out today to where I once called “Home.”
Buildings thickly cluster in New York and Massachusetts:
Less so in the wilds of Maine, as on my journey cruises.
Beyond Augusta traffic thins, at Bangor, I embark
To navigate the Airline, and often in the dark.
The border looms, and I become I.D. and passport juggler:
I hold my breath and hope they won’t decree that I’m a smuggler.
Then rolling through New Brunswick, it’s delightfully bizarre,
To have their highway to myself and scarcely see a car.
Once Sussex says “Bienvennue”, I’ll know that I have have won
That lifelong admonition not to go to Fredrickton.
Moncton, then the Tantramar...few barns now dot the marsh:
Then skeletal antennas: Radio Canada, stark and harsh.
Another little border in another little while,
And I’m in Nova Scotia: the arrival makes me smile.
From Antigonish to Pictou, Country Harbour to Mount Thom:
The very ground is sacred, where I walk or ride upon.
From Amherst down to Seafoam, the Sunrise Trail we tour,
Checking off the tiny towns that dot the rocky shore.
From Seafoam, we’ll see Halifax, Baddeck and P.E.I.
We’ll camp out at the Light House, take in the sea and sky.
We’ll cheer on Celtic Colours and Canadian Thanksgiving,
To bless the Lord for all the grand adventures we are living.
Too soon, it will be time to say farewell, yet still we praise
The road that leads us home, because it leads me home both ways.
By
The Q.O.E.
September 24, 2018
But, not last year…
And not this…