Courier of bloom powder

so that the river meadow is agog with flower head;

low-lying daisy wakes with the sun and turns

till dark hushes each petal and all the hubbub dies down.

Even sandfly, vampire of the light, gives up

his head-butting crawl across glass while moth

is up all hours with her deliveries.


Rhian Gallagher


NZ moths often have colourful, stunning patterning but nonetheless do their work largely unseen. It’s not that I imagine Paula is up all hours but the work involved in running NZ Poetry Box and NZ Poetry Shelf (both of which have very quickly become significant forums for poets and readers of poetry) is way more than the front lets on.


Paula’s own poetry is playful, inventive and wonderfully lyrical. I hope we see more of it in the coming year.


Happy birthday, dear Paula.


Rhian x


One comment on “Moth

  1. Small and perfectly formed, this poem catches a musical cadence that is breathtaking. And then, after the delight of that musical gift, the power of description takes over. Evocatively drawing you into the heart of place. I was so moved to read this poem and so very touched by the note. The thought of the unseen moth flickering against/ towards the light. Glorious. I adore this. Thank you.


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