Welcome, August.
This month brings
sweet memories of
Nova Scotia;
as a child,
as a teen,
as an adult.
Hearing the call
of the red sand and the blue-grey waves,
slicing through misery
like a seagull through azure sky.
on the other coast.
Lost then found,
west then east,
alone then together.
Always,
this is the first
and the last place
we come to
when we need to be
home.
A hay bale
marks the moment
we arrive
where we are meant to be,
in August.
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