Narrabarba Wattle (Acacia Constablei)

In the forest around the A1, 

You have a chance to see,

Little remains of the midday sun, 

Baby fairies to be. 

Each flower a mother’s kiss, 

Each leaf a little toe. 

If they’re gone we’ll surely miss

The beauty of their petite glow. 

The gentle swish, 

Of the canopy 

The quiet crish, 

Of treading softly, 

To see the beauty of July blooms. 

Wattle is our national flower, 

But in NSW we are losing, 

Some green and gold that gives us power, 

Are the experts snoozing? 

Fierce flowers fighting for freedom, 

Little leaves longing for safety, 

Save the leafy green kingdom.