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.

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