In The Bushland
In dry bushland by the lake,
nocturnal creatures stir
and shake themselves
to wake themselves.
What noise is that?
A weeping woman,
or a cat?
Just a night bird,
chatting to his mate,
tone rising, falling.
Softly sighs the evening breeze
through sparse-leaved trees
and stunted scrub.
Koala grunts an echoed reply
and a frogmouth swoops
from the darkening sky
for witchetty grub.
Possums chirrup deep in their throats,
a warning call
with shrill, strong notes.
Wallaby bounds along the banks.
There were showers at noon
and God's creatures give thanks.
Graphic: wildcardart.com
By cherryk
© 2008 cherryk
(All rights reserved)
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