By The Mouth Of Powlett River Poem by Francis Duggan

Above the scrub by mouth of Powlett river
The small brown lark is singing as he fly
And singing ever singing he is soaring
A small speck in the sunny evening sky.

In the shallows the great egret is fishing
In water to his knees he shuffles slow
He looks so lanky, beautiful and fragile
with long straight neck and feathers white as snow.

It's peaceful at the mouth of Powlett river
When tide is in you hear the breakers roar
The silver gulls wash sea salt from their feathers
Four hundred metres from the ocean shore.

The white faced heron stalking by the river
He feeds on slugs invertebrates and bees
And the multicoloured eastern rosellas
Are piping softly on the nearby trees.

It's good to be alone with Mother Nature
On warm October evening in the Spring
And above the gray scrub bordering Powlett river
The little skylark soaring as he sing.