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Nova Scotia
by Jude McCanse

A road trip.

Just the two of us
and the Marine Highway
meander up to Canso
playing hide and seek
with the Atlantic.

teased with glimpses,
then stretches,
then vistas
of quiet coves, lobster boats,
expansive reaches of blue.

Cape Breton Island

Just the two of us
explore the Cabot Trail,
hike in mountains that
hug the sea,
kayak in rainy mist where
dark cormorants stand stark
against a backdrop of fog.

Celtic ceilidhs on the east coast,
Acadian step-dancing on the west,
cultures blending into a people
fiercely proud of traditions,
in love with land and sea,
worried as their young migrate away.

On to Truro.

Just the two of us and
warm wild blueberry pie,
summer's bounty
eaten with abandon,
then waiting and watching
where sandy bottomed rivers
fill and empty with the tides.
Ebb and Flow.
Just like life.

Just the two of us
carry on,
the Bay of Fundy,
famous Digby scallops,
humpback whales,
swimming in tandem,
easily, slowly
sleek and black,
white fins reflecting green
in the moving water,
delighting with
flukes raised in greeting
before the dive.

One last stop.

Just the two of us and
Peggy's Cove,
it's oft pictured
shining white against
cloud streaked blue,
expanses of sea smooth granite
kissing whitecaps below.

He sits for a moment
on an outcropping,
looking at the horizon,
listening to the rhythm
of sea and wind,
peaceful, meditative
(my husband, my love)
not prepared for the journey home,
not quite yet.

Soon Halifax, then home,
just the two of us.

A road trip.


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