He sets out early, the man with the dog.
The shapeless trousers bound with string,
and he holds his manuka stick high –
tap, tap, always the same speed, and the
collie is in step, glancing up, his coat
bouncing, flicked by the wind.
Man and mate, out again;
a circuit of The Downs; each knows the way.
A man of the land down from the hills.
He does not see the urban sprawl, just
changing light, slanting hills and gully drop.
Tap, tap, shiny stick, a dog hugging his knee.