On An April Night Poem by Francis Duggan

The moon is up the night is calm and peaceful
And countless stars are shining in the sky
The barn owl the shy nocturnal hunter
On silent wings from tree to tree does fly.

A fox is barking on the moonlit hillside
He has a certain wildness in his cry
A voice once heard that should never be mistaken
But that to most things surely does apply.

The unmistakeable soft whistles of the wombat
He has a territory for to defend
He eventually will be dispossessed by a younger and stronger wombat
All reigns in Nature do come to an end.

The creatures of the night are out and hunting
The nocturnal boobook utters his mopoke call
The air is cool and one can sense the stillness
On an April night in the prime of the Southern Fall.