A poem for Ed

The day we met, we walked

along Wellington’s southern coast,

the dogs and the mountains

in the distance ahead

we called

for them – the dogs,

maybe the mountains too

each with faces full of secrets

the wind

blanching our skin, carrying the sting

of far-off snow, fresh tears

clearing our eyes

they called

for us – the dogs,

to share a string

of seaweed, a broken stick

they see things we don’t

find joy in small places

I think they also

see the mountains

maybe they know

that the kindness of the man

walking behind them

is as big, and endless as the hills.