OCTOBER NIGHT

OCTOBER NIGHT

Now Scorpio is slowly slithering down

the western vastness.

And Alpha Centauri sparkles, winking through

the skyline leaves.

Above my head

the moon is one half bright.

Fields and hills

seem to shimmer, insubstantial,

pale in its pale light.

The eucalypts are dark against

the lunar sky.

There are no streetlights here

and now no sounds of man,

but crickets and small frogs

hold concert round the dam.

There is no distant drone of cars.

And suddenly I hear

a wood duck's wings.

Feet first it breaks the water

and sends out rings.

And ripples stars.