To Love Leaving

In these hills, the lakes are dammed and funnelled through pipelines and turbines, running low with the power of water thrumming underfoot. I feel the draw like nothing could hold me, that I'll respond to gravity just as easily as I might condensation. See me in the clouds before long, surely. That's where my head is all through autumn. Every stage holds sway, from the early hints in September to the muddy depths of November – but I'm most moved right here at the peak of the season. I've never been away from Nova Scotia in this stretch, never missed my homeland when the best reason to be here was coming alive. It rattles out passion beyond contention; dares you to love leaving on its way out the door. All I've got now is a very brief grasp on what's slipping out sight. If I could hold on and slow the moment, I know it wouldn't mean as much.

 

October 22, 2023

Greenland, Nova Scotia

 

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