Three Miles East Of The Town
By the babbling creek that flows by the woodland through the high country three miles east of the town
The shrike thrush on a wattle tree is whistlingat twilight just before the sun goes down
And all is well in Mother Nature's garden on a pleasant end to a sunny Autumn day
A memory such as this lasts a whole lifetime and even in old age from you won't fade away.
The kookaburras cackle on gum trees at their border they call perhaps to mark their territory
It is a signal to warn off their own kind they call together as a family
They call at dawn and in the gathering twilight as if to warn their neighbours we're still here
They do not call to say how are you neighbour their calls in others meant to instil fear.
In the gathering darkness the creek downhill babbling along by the wood fringed by gum and wattle trees
On a perfect ending to a perfect day in Autumn the leaves are rustling in the freshening breeze
Three miles east of the Town in Nature's garden the kookaburras cackle in the fading light
And nocturnal creatures waking from their slumber to hunt for food under the cloak of night.