A driver, or perhaps a walker, leaves the main route for a smaller road, and the poem lets us feel how uncertain that choice is. The speaker doesn't take the detour with confidence. Even after turning off, the doubt stays, as if changing roads hasn't changed anything inside.
The last two lines shift the focus to night. The speaker has some darkness left, and wonders whether it might "ease my mind." That's a quiet, hopeful thought, but it's phrased as a maybe. Night here could be a comfort: privacy, stillness, no one watching. It could also just be the only thing available.
The title, "The way home," suggests the journey matters emotionally as well as physically. The mood is hushed, tentative and a little weary. Nothing is resolved, and the poem ends on a small, uncertain hope that the dark might help, which feels honest rather than tidy.