'A Chilly Winter's Night

All seems so dark under a moonless sky

And the repetitive sound of the nocturnal

boobook's cry

Echo in the quietness of the night

On the tall gum trees on the wooded height

Though not frosty cold a high of a few degrees

And a soft whistling sound come to me in the

freshening breeze

The wombat has his borders to defend

Males of his own kind could never become his

friend

The cries of the breeding spur wing plovers I

can hear

Perhaps a fox to where their nest is might be

prowling near

And if he found their nest their blotched eggs

he would eat

To a fox's taste buds such a thing does taste

sweet

Save for the calls of nocturnal wildlife all

seems calm and still

And the Winter night air though not frosty

does have a slight chill.



Francis Duggan'