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.