If I seek out solitude away from daily lifestyle grind,
It only takes an hour’s drive, for I know that’s where I’ll find,
The peace that I am seeking where I know I’ll clear my head,
Walking tracks amongst the Wiregrass, where the Wombats often tread.
There is a chance in Silver Wattle I may flush a Wallaby,
Or the Bunyip’s rippling water holds a sight I rarely see,
(Where the Blackfish are in hiding underneath a fishbone fern)
Of a ‘Yabby hunting’ Platypus, nudging stones they overturn.
Each log bears a sunning Copper Skink, a common lizard here,
And I’m watching for the Tiger Snake, a snake with little fear,
A Butterfly on Pomaderris flits; it’s a pretty Yellow Jewel,
Mosquitoes rest amongst the Tree Ferns, for they like keeping cool.
But the heartbeat of the bushland is the chorus in the trees,
A million songs from a thousand birds that put my mind at ease,
They forage through a canopy or rummage in the litter,
It is their song that turns to sweet the taste of something bitter.
The lyrebird dancing on his mound is a sight that’s to behold,
While mimicking the bushland chorus that no other can unfold,
There’s the Kookaburra laughing, a Golden Whistler call is art,
When the whipbird cracks its whip, the echo lingers in my heart,
And the Bellbirds constant tinkle through the Dogwood is a guide,
With a Yellow Robin clutching bark on a Ti-tree by my side,
There’s the trilling from a Blue Wren with his family flying past,
The Rufous Fantail spreads its tail while a constant syllable is cast.
King Parrots screeching overhead are way too bright to blend,
Firetail Finches roost on sword grass for the seed they do depend,
And the Ground Thrush still as stone waits for me to walk on by,
The Black Jay ever wary gives a long and mournful cry.
There are so many other birds; I never get the chance to see,
For they’re doing Mother Natures work, protecting shrub or tree,
They are just a flash of movement, a dart of colour through the air,
But I am never disappointed for at least I know they’re there.