A Night In the Bush
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Out in the bushland, no street lights around
No sheltering tent, we lay on the ground
Close by a green pool and Kurrajong tree
Alone by ourselves, just Willow and me
The bushland at night is dark as black tar
A million bright twinkles, each one a star
The moon, just a sliver, riding up high
No clouds to obscure, and rain a far cry
Way off in the distance low eerie moans
Raised hairs on my neck, a chill in my bones
But Willow just snuffled, curled in a ball
No fright in her hackles, no fear at all
Slow dying embers, a lone dingo’s cry
A night in the bushland under the sky
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