HARPS IN THE LONG PADDOCK . . .

In early days in times of drought, no feed for stock

system of tracks evolved called "The long paddock"

stretches from Far-North Queensland to Victoria in south

feeding many a farmer's stock their hungry mouth

The use of the long paddock is rapidly declining

our native animals' sun has once again began shining

researchers put"harps" along these grazing tracks

wanting to know what, where, how wildlife is coming back

No more hiding from bleating , dumb woolly choppers

many a bird said to catch now insects and grasshoppers

those beasts with those nasty horns no more using this patch

more now for us, said the kangaroos to the wombats

Small birds, bats, about those harps they don't sing

we fly into them, hard to see, damaging our wing

we do try to fly either higher or really very low

otherwise for us the long paddock is now a no-no

The main reason for the long paddocks decimation

road trains, quicker, faster transport to new vegetation

in times of devastating floods, fires, long- term drought

not many farmers, their cattle or sheep, get caught

Road trains, along highways, byways, by day and night

putting legends of drovers and swagman to flight

no more boiling of the billy, damper, stew, campfire

forcing many of these colourful characters to retire

Yet another chapter in Aussie folklore, heritage is lost

in age of computers, mighty dollar, the high cost

it is sad, incomprehensible, perhaps a twist of fate

Pitt Street farmers say " Prosper or perish mate"

WHEN RETIRED, TRAVEL AUSTRALIA . . .

Retirement for many people, holds an unknown fear

choice of what to do now we are retired, really unclear

the prospect of being home 24 hours a day, very boring

now is the time to get away from it all, go exploring

There are many old towns, museums, historical places

making new friends, a yarn by a campfire, new faces

listen to birds in trees, singing their songs, day or night

sit and watch rising, setting of sun, brilliant end day's light

Marvel at nature's pallet of colour, in autumn or spring

scenic, beautiful panorama of faraway horizon unfolding

unbelievable sunsets in desserts, mangroves, ocean shores

follow in footsteps of early explorers, who have gone before

See drought stricken and fire ravaged land, fish in a river

size and sight of some aquatic animals make you shiver

eagles and hawks, bustards, brolga dancing, what a sight

owls, possums, sugar gliders, wombats, watch them at night

Burning cane fields, majestic river gums along river courses

see wild flowers in bloom, camels, feral pigs, cats, wild horses

listen to wind in the trees, when camped near billabong

this is retirement, a new world has opened up, life's evensong

Orchards, vineyards, rice and cotton fields, see the irrigation

sheep stations, cattle, sheep runs, backbone of our Nation

aboriginal rock paintings, shell middens, hear the didgeridoo

sight lyrebird, dingo, cascading waterfall, old man kangaroo

Retirement, best part of your life, travel Australia if you can

see our great land, open spaces, throw away your previous plan

memories of places visited, implanted forever on your mind

beautiful Australia, your country, unparalelled, one of a kind

A CRISIS IN MID-LIFE . . .

To young people it seems a long way off

your mid-life crisis is coming too, don't scoff

we all go through it, you, me, friends, everyone

don't despair, it is the best time to have fun

It is somewhere between adolescence and old age

common thinking, brought up the kids, ready for grave

we realised and thought perhaps we've missed life's boat

people raising eyebrows, mumbling that silly old goat

Some men have a pre-conceived idea about all this

the time to fulfill their dreams and weirdest wish

trip to outer space, spending their money, willy nilly

be an astronaut, famous, fling with a young filly

Women hate looking old, worried about crow's feet

dressing-up as younger ones, on age they cheat

divorce, half his super, wild, wild parties, real cool

on with the make-up, rekindle youth, men will drool

The kids looking on, horrified, doing song and dance

o no, they are spending all that money, our inheritance

why, what are they doing to us, doesn't make sense

tried to stop us, miserable failed using any pretence

despite sly looks, some praise, criticising, underhand barbs

new lease of life, not yet for up stairs to play them harps

fountain of new found youth, elixer, ever so sweet

force to be reckoned with, old but not old, indeed

We will eventually answer the reaper's call, the final call

out of this life, into a bigger better next, a bigger ball

the twilight of our life flew by, not a single regret

blowing our trumpet, to our lovely kids, ratta-ta-tet!

JOURNEY IN A HARSH LANDSCAPE . . .

The mid-winter morning is, as usual, crisp, clear and cold

the vegetation to be seen all round appears ancient, very old

low wizened Mallee, Acacia growing in very small fertile patches

morning breeze creating melodies in passing when it touches

Dusky unusual silhouttes rising gracefully against sky of old

it feels like serenity, as always, slumbering beneath limestone fold

distinctive ringing bird calls float across the early morning sky

those of us having been here before, as if friends are passing by

Songs of early birds, Babblers, Fan-tailed cuckoos, Currawong

maybe these birds with their beautiful songs, teaching their young

one would not think that any life could exist in this harsh land

for some birds, animals, it fulfills however a need, diet very bland

Pounding waves along seashore, eerie sounds in stillness of night

millions of stars in sky above, no moon, they provide the only light

presence of underground caves, indicated by blow-holes, big, small

sometimes full of clear water, ironic in area of very low annual rainfall

Landscape scarred, almost barren, anything survives here is a wonder

this is one of the mysteries of this, Australia, a land called "Down Under"

a result of millions oif years of battle between wind, sun, land, and sea

to be in this environment is good for the soul, mind, feeling totally free

It wasn't so long ago when early explorers crossed this forbidden land

saved from perishing on journey by roaming Aboriginal's guiding hand

with their intimate knowledge of finding precious water, some shade

explorers, disillusioned gave up hope, some finally journey's end made

A jewel on the West Coast . . .

It was by mere chance discovering this jewel going down narrow track

never seemed to reach end, anticipating vista awaiting, didn't want to turn back

discovering it, of which the locals, in their wisdom, they certainly don't boast

a place to escape fast pace, humdrum of polluted city, yet so close, on the coast

Beautifully eroded limestone cliffs, standing amongst clear water lapping shore

undulating dunes, pristine beach, here and there a shipwreck, adding to decor

this is a place, although close to suburbia, one can relax, it will always be there

Pt Peron, at back door of city, waiting to be discovered, unparalelled anywhere

Whenever there, new discoveries are bound to be made, maybe in rock pool

or when meandering along myriad dune bush tracks, in summer shady and cool

one could encounter spectacle of Sea-eagles soaring high up in cloudless sky

maybe just sit down and let the beautiful landscape, for later, fill mind's eye

Going fishing off rocks, being careful where one steps, not catching any fish

didn't seem to matter, absorbing and surrounded by nature, what utter bliss

the impressive drama of changing colours of mirror images in water of rocks

one can almost tell the time of day, nature providing it's own time clocks

At night the enchantment of silvery moonlight, over limestone cliffs and bay

to be here forever, why leave, holding one spellbound, whether night or day

in winter would be even more dramatic, swell of huge waves battering reef

to weary sailors full of dangers, shipwrecks, testimony of having come to grief

The sky, cliffs, beach all turning red, ocean looks like pool of blood at sunset

maybe at end of some bush track, a similar jewel waits to be discovered yet

within our Australia, unbeknown to most, may be many more such places

depending on time of year, you too can experience, see nature's many faces

COMING HOME AFTER THE HUNT . . .

It was still, surprisingly, rather dark in early morning and cool
the young fox, finally after a night's hunting, had his belly full
he surveyed field from shelter of hedge in nearness to lair
never throwing caution to wind, predators may be waiting there

Non curious sheep with lambs asleep amongst lush green grass
his nose twitched, rich flood of smells, not hungry, easy to pass
maybe tomorrow he may have to risk taking a lamb from mob
with their mothers watchfull, on full alert, would not be easy job

The trees, still a mass of blue shadow, taking shape in early light
another day was about to begin, resting easy he well might
on the skyline a brilliant smear of orange, yellow to be seen
the dome of sky clear, almost transparent, neither blue nor green

Sniffing the wind, getting nervous, on edge of forest he stopped
a tanquil view, on spring loaded feet rabbits among sheep bobbed
finally reached safety of another hedge, this along a muddy lane
barbed wire topped fence, which beyond he had explored, mundane

The mist starting to come up, swallowing little valley church's spire
he was really in dangerous spot, to stop and scenery to admire
a slight anomaly, brain registering it without real identification
fewer smells, no smoke from chimneys, what possible explanation

His nose twitched once again, in familiar surroundings he'd come
guided by smells through labyrinth to safety of earth and home
remembering when they was two, a much happier life in past
sadly shattered, when she went out alone, infernal shotgun blast

There had been food a-plenty then, never hungry, now just a trace
never had to hunt this far from home, each night a different place
at entrance he paused and smelled a smell that eased the pain
it was those faint smells, made him come back again and again

A COMMUNITY SERVED BY VOLUNTEERS . . . .

There's a service in our community of which we're rightly proud
it was, many years ago, by concerned citizens brought about
free transport to get to a doctor, hospital, for those in need
especially those aged of whom their families payed them little heed

Implementing the idea, what was needed, a voluntary crew
these kind of people, as we are too well aware, are vey few
a vehicle, preferable one large, one small, no large fleet
just to help those in the community, that are most in need

It was implemented as a free service, unique, still the best
it has it ups and downs, over time has stood many a test
provided by like-minded people, caring and kind hearted
it seems only like yesterday, when thought of and started

To use this service is very simple, making just one phone call
when in need of transport to doctor, specialist or hospital
providing name, address, doctor, specialist, when and where
at appropiate time the bus does arrive, to take take you there

At times, when times are busy, the bus may be running late
they do their best, notify doctor, specialist, where appropiate
this service is provide by volunteers, with pride, smiling face
they are ordinairy people, who could live next door, your place

There is great satisfaction in a job well done at end of tiring day
a smiling face form those helped, grateful people, is reward, pay
every day is different, problems are not the same, guarantee
that's why it's satisfying to be a volunteer in your community
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This service is unique to the hospital that it operates out of for the last 25 years, not duplicated anywhere in Australia. Despite the harsh economic times it is still free and transports about 5000 people a year within a radius of 20km. We salute those volunteers.

The Tanami Desert and fossilised rivers . . .

The Tanami Desert is an ancient landscape of spinifex and many a termite mound. It is hot and to all appearances it seems that not a drop of water could be found. The surface indications are also very misleading at even the first observations. There is plenty of water in fossil rivers, in
deep underground locations. In the days of Gondwana land, not long ago, this land was a virtual muddy swamp. Dripping rainforests, crisscrossing flowing rivers, places where dinosaurs used to tramp. Over millions of years the swamp dried up, sediment in rivers became soil, fine sand. Climatic elements also shaped the vegetation and wild life remaining on this land. Termite mounds provide an even better clue as to what water exists underground. In some places they are very small, where water levels are high, a bigger mound. Providing yet another clue are the juicier than normal desert plants of the Tanami. Profuse low scrub, spinifex grass is taller, thicker, lance-like leaves thrusting to the sky. Vast reservoirs of salt water, undergound, from oil explorations, it is known.Saltier than seawater, would need expensive treatment, for anything to be grown. Along remaining river valleys, groundwater closer to surface than anywhere else.Discoveries of fossilised rocks, Aboriginal paintings of variety of animals tells. Fewer than half of these species survive, due to changing climatic conditions shock. Extinctions were more dramatic and cruel soon after white man introduced grazing stock. Those that disappeared, little- , hare-, nail-tailed -wallabies, bandicoots, kangaroo rat. Never to return, after man, in a little over 150 years, has destroyed their habitat

A meeting in the sky . . .

It's an unusual place, to say the least, a meeting in the sky
whilst hang gliding, attracting me with it's plaintive cry
a wedge-tailed eagle, big, black, circling oh so close
wings spread out and claws extended in attacking pose

Must have been angered by my intrusion, one could tell
narrowly missing in attacking dive, in giant shadow I fell
soaring then to tremendous height, no more than mere speck
so small, realising it's size, it was hard not to loose track

This unexpected encounter with wedge-tail eagle, so high
rekindled a childhood fascination about this bird of prey
as distinctive a part of Australian landscape as our kangaroo
you'l l find it from arid interior to snow covered peaks too

A hunter combining great flying power, extra ordinary grace
magnificent pair of wings, soaring on thermals, high cloud base
fast projectiles when diving, keen eyes, a special purpose tail
claws that are sure to grip, hooked beak, in hunting never fail

Maligned by farmers, killing many lambs, 'twas said in early days
governments encouraged their demise, for a bounty they'd pay
now they are protected, these magnificent acrobatic aerialists
if you've never experienced these birds, a great thrill missed

EVOLUTION of AUSTRALIAN WILDFLOWERS . . .

Evolution of our wildflowers, dramatic, fascinating, conside-
ring the harshness, isolation of Australia. Flowering is a means
of achieving, at appropiate time, fertilisation. This mechanism
plants use to produce seed for next generation.

Being voiceless, flowers evolved colours, shapes, patterns, scents,
distinctive looks, textures,appealing to myriad insects and birds.
It is intriguing, these features, we can only look on in awe, no
artificial world here, nature in all it's splendour, in the raw.

With strategies which have developed over millions of years and
isolation, most flowering plants have spread widely in this con-
figuration. Appearing in the most unlikely places, seashore to inland
plains, mountain tops, river valleys, adapting a suitable strain

The Australian climate, landforms, creating varied environments,
geology, sunlight, space, soils, water, very basic requirements,
adaptability, diversity all a key factor in these most remarkable
plants. Evolving over millions of years, even in the present time.

Ancient soils very poor, no plant life they could possibly sustain,
on close inspection, they are highly specialised systems of living
they do contain.mechanisms for reducing water loss in severe
drought, equipped to recover even after severe bush fires

Yet, thousands of species of plants, on what is on offer, thrive,
diversification and adaptability, the key in a remarkably
fragile environment, some present in all climates, tropical, tempe-
rate, wet, dry, we do have an obligation to help their survival,
the least thing we can do is try.

BREAD and BUTTER pudding . . .

Outback Australia, between Swallow and Camooweal
a whistlestop, hotel, motel, a good square meal
they make you very welcome, you will have a ball
plenty of meat, vegies, bread and butter pud as special

When you ate it, a very special taste you'd find
it always did wonders for your state of mind
some claimed it cured the common cold, the flu
others said it made you race to the outside loo

Many a question of how, what secret, asked in vain
as to what the bread and butter pudding did contain
the usual, was the cook's standard evasive reply
perhaps this is the first time you've come by?

Middle of night, in hotel's kitchen, a flickering light
the cook was at work, what a sight when in full flight
another batch of bread and butter pudding she 'd make
with these tourists, hotel's reputation was at stake

Milk , flour, eggs, stale bread, to make a lovely goo
then there was the most important secret thing to do
substituting the all important raisins, no fancy pack
with a handfull of dead flies from outside the old flytrap

RAINFOREST'S CHANGING MOOD . . .

Misty low clouds, slowly drifting over high mountains
shrouding dense green vegetation with very fine rain
very little penetration of sun's rays through dense canopy
stately, here and there, in all kinds of hues, stands a tall tree

In rainforest an absense of any noticeable bird sound
you can hear the drips of water, from up high, falling on ground
a sodden mess of dead twigs, leaves, shedded bark, on forest floor
fallen trees, rotting, decaying, returning nutrients to soil so poor

Some covered in coloured fungi, red, pink, brown, even blue
tiny pools of brackish water, reflecting mirror like, every hue
intricate cobwebs, droplets of water, hanging like pearls on string
spiders, patiently waiting, for next meal to come by, to tangle in

On gnarled, not always fallen trunks, new leaves emerging in sun
soft yellows, pinks, dappled greens, new life cycle again has begun
throughout rainforest, after rain, birds and frogs starting to call
familiar sounds returning, stars above, night is beginning to fall

Another dawn will soon break, rain temporarely gone, sunlight
frog choruses diminishing, songs of mornging birds again delight
mood of the rainforest has changed, a new experience beginning
there's no turning back, body and soul with new energy ringing

PASSAGE OF TIME CELEBRATED . . .

In the pastel light, after a hot day, in the setting sun
upon the escarpment, in fissure, a solitary Ghost Gum
absorbing, on its twisted white limbs, sun's dying ray
higher up, among rocks, surefooted wallabies play

In the sudden descending blackness of tropical night
the quietness, the landscape becomes a different sight
there are no stark, brilliant colours by light of full moon
eerie shapes, strange shadows, delicate flowers bloom

Crocodiles in water courses, patiently waiting for prey
water buffalo, wild horses, thirsty, edgy, slowly try
on ground and overhead flocks of migratory birds
cacophony of sound, deafening, nothing else is heard

Change of seasons, from dry to wet, tattoo of rain
transforming parched landscape to endless green plain
the walls of sandstone gorges take on whole new sheen
on some, simple Aboriginal paintings, a sight to be seen

The wet season has started, revitalising again this land
torrents of water, in, what was yesterday, river of sand
sometimes the seasons change early, sometimes late
an annual ritual, the passage of time, it helps to celebrate

MAGIC TO DREAM ABOUT . . .

The night air is crisp, illuminated by a brilliant full moon
it's hard to go back to sleep, knowing dawn will break soon
heard thumpings in middle of night, reverberating in still air
huddled deeper into sleeping bag, wondering what went there

Dawn breaks, casting orange glow over sparsely wooded plain
as it gets lighter and hotter, it swallows setting moon again
the morning chorus of suberb songsters, like Sun- and Cat-bird
others, because of smaller numbers, dry habitat, seldom heard

Sheer walls of Gorge, in early light reveal eons of earth's history
before the Dreamtime, richly sculpted rockface, rise majestically
along walking track, deep water holes, shimmering crystal clear
flowering Wattles, Bottlebrush, shade, pause a moment here

Above gorge, lookout providing spectacular panoramic view
a landscape tortured thru the ages, awe inspiring, old, yet new
potholed creekbed, resembling dinosaur foot prints, imagination
small lizards sunning themselves, wild flowers, plenty of variation

Exploring, hiking, photographing, swimming, whatever is the case
time out to contemplate dramatic landscape, beauty of this place
words fail to describe its existence, it seems unlikely and yet
it ever so slowly evolved over time with every sunrise and sunset

Traveling in this amazing land, many more such places to be seen
some are easy to reach, others take a bit of effort if you're keen
now that the holidays are over and back to reality, daily grind
often daydreaming about magical Porcupine Gorge we did find

The KIMBERLEYS . . .

The parched, unforgiving, expanse of what is the Kimberleys
does hide land full of unexpected beauty, Aboriginal mystery
beautiful Wandjina Gorge, Tunnel Creek and the Lennard River
each has it's own surprises that overwhelm, make you shiver

Tall majestic walls of Standley Chasm, waters of Tunnel Creek
bats wheeling in caves, crocodiles slithering into muddy deep
day comes to a close in quiet surroundings, dramatic change
unnerving sound of giant flying crickets coming from the range

Sunrise, sunset, spectacular affairs, imprinting upon memory
one becomes aware why this land is sacred to the Aboriginie
endless expanse of Kimberley counry, empty rocky yellow plain
dry short stunted trees, cloudless azure sky, land crying for rain

Kimberley's isolation, still connecting Aboriginals to this land
ancient people, rich culture, sometimes taking extreme stand
stories of Rainbow Serpent, Earth Snake, others, still being told
a people, proud of ancestral Dreamtime stories, keeping hold

The mysteriousness of this land, makes you want to come back
retracing steps, just wander, experience again The Outback
The Kimberleys, seemingly an inhospitable land at first glance
but, after being there a short while, will delight, give it a chance

WHY EVER GO ABROAD . . .

We've got eucalypts, wattles, unique wildflowers,
deserts and endless plains, panoramic horizons,
nature's beauty and starkness, contrasts overpower
floods, droughts, fires sometimes the landscape scar
sprawling cities, towns far flung, loneliness, isolation,
salt lakes, rainforests at ocean shore, history, folklore,
struggles to farm the land, ingenious innovations,
land of Aboriginal myth, mysterious rock paintings
where seemingly ever none or tranquil rivers flow,
unleashing their destructive powers when in flood,
where majestic eucalypts and river gums grow,
mangroves, tangled roots, smelly bottomless mud
there is mining of opals, emeralds, iron ore, lead, zinc
copper, gold, manganese, our technology and science
is up there with the world's best, diamonds and oil,
in times of world conflicts surely have passed the test,
to many nationalities we are a land of milk and honey,
temperate climates, can follow sunshine all year round,
social security, governments freely handing out money,
no passport needed wherever in this Australia you go,
land of the emu, kangaroo, kookaburra, crocodiles,
brumbies, galahs, rabbits, brolga, cane toad, yabbies,
billabongs, Southern Cross in sky on cloudless nights,
comfortable lifestyle, carry a swag if you like and roam,
having all this, why wouldn't you call it Home, sweet Home.

THE SWAGGIE . . .

In the cemetery there stands a simple wooden cross
on it, Swaggie, caught my eye and imagination
no claim to fame, achievement, just one of society's dross
a harmless soul, nobody knew, a-tramping around the Nation

His old felt hat, worn jauntily, belongings, swag on back
grey whiskers, tousled hair, flowing long white beard
worn boots, army great coat, heading along unknown track
almost a trade mark, about him not many people cared

Leading a simple life, never a worry or ever creating a fuss
communicating with nature, in heart and mind content
a lifelong dream fulfilled, maybe strange to many of us
looking at life in a different perspective, no fairy story

Many a place he had been, hitching a ride or just walk
always as one with nature, according to environment
about his travels, if you asked, only too willing to talk
for many hours, wishing his odessy would never end

Days of the Swaggie, romantic as they may seem, no more
like so many things of yesteryear, passing into Folklore
as in life, so too in death, at rest under a shady tree
no name, no Epitaph, just an all encompassing "Swaggie

A RIVER CARVED OUT OF STONE . . .

Floodwaters over centuries have left their mark in this river carved out of stone
to appreciate it's beauty of towering sheer walls can be done by boat alone
creating caves and overhangs when through sandstone cliffs it forged it's way
walls displaying kaleidoscope of colours by changing light throughout the day

This river in winter it serene beauty, peacefulness, tranquility grossly belie
in summer, when in full flood, a very destructive force when it thunders by
the waters become very deep between the sheer walls, flowing metres wide
eroding the banks, drowning wildlife, uprooting trees, what a terrifying sight

The mirror-like reflections of multi-coloured walls amazing sight to behold
interspersed, here, there, delicate plants, clinging to walls, tenuous foothold
along path subtle formed rock bars,creating foaming rapids, miniature waterfall
great variety of birds, cormorants, fairy martins, rainbow birds, enthrall

Freshwater crocodiles, in search of food in tranquil waters, slowly cruise by
almost a fisherman's paradise, usually catch perch, barramundi, on first try
unlike most Aboriginal rock art found, here not always in caves, rock shelters
often on open walls, although protected from fierce sun and torrential rain

Drawings, some 18000 years old, depict ancestral Spirits, animals of Dreamtime
some of them brilliant colours, red ochres, meticulously drawn in very fine line
scattered in Outback Towns or Stations, few Aboriginal descendants still survive
their traditional relationship with the land and Katherine Gorge being kept alive

Nature is an absolute Wonderland . . .

Smokey blue hills on horizon far away
wonderland of nature, grandiose in its display
from dry inland to where rainforests meet the sea
sun, rain, wind, each an entity, moving in harmony

Cedars, eucalypts, cut down long ago, large stumps
used in ships, houses, coal mines, new leaves in clumps
ribbon of silver, murmuring creek in valley below
gurgling over moss covered pebbles, not interrupting flow

On steep mountain sides, all covered in fine scree
supporting in small crevices, occasional stunted tree
against all odds, they somehow manage to survive
a web of intermingled spidery roots giving it precious life

Myriad small insects dancing, age-old rituals, sub-dued light
wild flowers, vibrant colours, eucalypts of great height
spiders, beetles, fungi, nests of birds, bush honey bees
brumbies, wild pigs, foxes, dingos, kangaroos, roaming free

Nature's way, micro organisms at work well below ground
making sure the bush's life cycle keeps going round
each creature in its own way contributing, not stopping toil
breaking down twigs, leaves, old logs, to enhance the soil

Waterfalls, ever changing sight, waterbirds and frogs,
wombat, lizards, snakes, sleep in hollows, burnt out logs
to experience nature's wonderland close at hand, go there
you'll never regret, immerse yourself in it, its everywhere

PAUSE A MOMENT . . .

Go and spend a night in Australian bush, great thrill
titillating your senses, heart and mind with wonder fill
a brilliant sunset at end of the day, moon slowly rising
millions of stars above you, the light subdued, surprising

Nowhere else, even worldwide, only in Australia, will you see
koalas, possums, sugar gliders, foraging in tree's canopy
diversity of insects, age-old rituals performing, air is light
boulders, grotesque shapes, mountains, magical sight

Wombats, flying foxes, emus, frogs in billabong croaking
bush's smell , flowers, unusual noises, thought provoking
wallabies, kangaroos, like silhouettes in pale moonlight
pause now and then, really listen to sounds of the night

Dingos howl, creaking of dry leaning old trees, owls hoot
gurgling of nearby creek, crunching of twigs underfoot
ant-eaters, echidnas rummaging for food on forest floor
magic moments in time, ocean sounds on faraway shore

Enchantment of bush by night soon lost by rising sun
whispy mists, light of dawn, the magic of night has gone
cadenza of morning bird's chorus, like a symphony
the experience lingers in your mind, everlasting memory