In The Night Air

Hundreds of small moths around the orange street light fly And a boobook owl calls on moonlit trees nearby And the sounds of the night are around everywhere And how pleasant to walk out in the cool night air. There is a cool freshness in the cool evening breeze And the male brush tail possums snarling on the garden trees And the wild cry of the fox though outlawed not rare A familiar voice one hears in the night air. Of such natural beauty a poet could write The voices of nocturnal creatures in places dark and quiet They come out at nightfall and hidden away In their dark holes and burrows hide from light of day. The crickets are chirping in the old stone wall And one cannot mistake the barn owl's call And the soft distinctive whistle makes one of the wombat aware As he calls for a mate in the balmy night air.