Dotterel
Little whistle
little dartaway
I can hardly hear you
What’s that you say?
follow me follow me
Little pepperpot
little run-a-lot
all a-fluttering
all a-scurrying
just over here just over here
this way please this way please
oh look I’m hurting
Little feathers
little broken wing
over-here no over-here
leading and retreating
follow me follow me
oh no I have no family
all salt and sand
all salt and sand
smaller than my clumsy hand
follow me follow me
Bill Manhire
This past week I have discovered the joy of reading a poem slowly at 5 am, in the movement from dark to light and birdsong. I started with Bill Manhire’s poem ‘Dotterel’, but I loved reading it so much, I read it across the week. I filled to the brim with the joy and the scope of what words can do. The music, the dotterel rhythms, the personal links to the endangered dottorel at Te Henga and the communities ongoing endeavours to protect them.
I got musing on poetry as music echo chamber – as Bill does so deftly but also as an echo chamber of ideas and experience, whether personal or political or imagined.
“‘Dotterel’ is one of five poems about New Zealand birds originally commissioned by the Chamber Music of New Zealand Trust to be set by Gareth Farr for baritone Julien Van Mellaerts. (The other four birds I tried to voice were the extinct huia, the saved-from-extinction takahē, the tūī, and the kiwi.) I remember many happy family summers at Opoutere where parts of the long beach there have become breeding space for dotterel. Every year it was hugely uplifting to meet the tiny dotterel, so brave in protecting their nests from clumsy human beings and (sometimes) their exuberant dogs.” Bill Manhire
So it’s a high recommendation from me, if you are wide awake at 5 am, try dwelling on a poem in the unfolding light.
And as we remember those who have left us this weekend, and contemplate new beginnings, I offer Matariki greetings.
Monday: Monday Poem – ‘All the world’s a stage, & all the poets have main character energy’ Chris Tse This poem has struck readers deeply as so many of us hold AI at arm – or should I say pen’s length.
Tuesday: Poetry Shelf Speaking Out To For With – ‘Radiogram’ by Bee Trudgeon And this struck a chord with me personally, as I am still so dependent on the care of doctors and nurses and a stretched health system.
Wednesday: Poetry Shelf Breathing Room – ‘Empty Coat Hangers’ by Joy Sharp And this poem. Try reading this at 5 am. Poetry as ache and grief and
Thursday: Poetry Shelf review – Dinah Hawken “There are so many pathways through Dinah’s stunning collection, so many glades to linger in, so many vantage points where you can stand or sit to absorb the shifting moods of sea and sky, so many trails into the rugged war-smashed greedy world, into living and dying, into aging and becoming, into mourning the dead. Into the ocean at fingertips and the mantra meditation.”
Friday: Poetry Shelf review and reading – some helpful models of grief by Hana Pera Aoake As my review underlines, this book: “And when I listen to the rhythm, the words spilling and coiling and arching and arcing, I am absorbing the poetry so very deeply.”
Grateful thanks to everyone who reads and shares Poetry Shelf posts, and responds to invitations.
I am very sorry but in order to manage my tiny energy jar I do not publish unsolicited poems.
An invitation: Choose a poetry book published in Aotearoa in 2025 or 2026 and write a paragraph in response to why you are drawn to the book. With permission from the poet/publisher I could include a poem. paulajoygreen@gmail.com
My public postal address: PO Box 58, Waitākere, 0660












