Tuesday Poem: Just because there’s words by Pat White

And then, there’s nights humid hot

with the breath of frogs, croaking

an urgent desire, anywhere they find

the water’s edge. What if you would

wake in that sort of darkness, filled

primeval, with the amphibious dance,

mating heavy in the air, stultifying

to the point you have to stand, moonlit

looking out into the sound, you naked

by an open window seeking movement

to feel any cool breeze, your body pale

or shapeshifting when cloud crosses

the moon’s path filtered with moments

of unexplained pause in the crescendo

chorus of frogs – somewhere among

neighbours, the distant barking, a dog

disturbed for whatever reason – lying

awake it may be worth asking if just

because there’s a whole lot of words

out there, is no reason to use them

though nature is profligate; breathing

phosphorescence in ripples, caught

shoals lit in the water’s curl, awash

with breath, so much, ah, there’s so much

Pat White is a writer and artist who lives in the Wairarapa. He was a student in the 2009 MA in Creative Writing at the IIML. Earlier this year he held the Robert Lord Cottage residency in Dunedin, at present he is the 2010 Randell Cottage Writer in Residence and has started blogging. He is working on a biographical work on the life of Peter Hooper, West Coast author and conservationist. His memoir How the Land Lies is due out in November from VUP.

Pat is, according to the NZ Book Council: 

a poet whose work often reflects an interest in rural life and the natural environment, with a life lived 'close to the seasons.'

This poem does demonstrate Pat's rural focus, although he is more than a "nature writer". What really strikes me about this piece is the rhythm, it carries you forward to through the poem, it reflects the frogs call and the wash of water and breath itself.

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