A Mild Night In September Poem by Francis Duggan

There scarcely is a puff of wind and in the pale moonlight
Out there in the quiet paddock the red fox barks tonight
Perhaps she is feeling hungry with fast growing cubs to feed
A scavenger and a hunter and a hunted life she lead,
A mild night in September of around sixteen degrees
And a boobook owl is calling somewhere on the nearby trees
Once heard he cannot be mistaken mopoke mopoke he cry
And the nearby roosting small birds to a safer tree do fly
In the darkness after twilight the night creatures venture out
The loud screech of the barn owl the soft call of the frogmouth
The soft whistle of the wombat not hard to recognize
The creatures who are out at night seldom seen after sunrise
And on an old gray gum tree a brush tail possum call
He leaves his ceiling sanctuary just after darkness fall.