The Downy Wattle

Lightning strikes throughout the night,

It doesn’t bother us, yet gives us a fright.

Little do we know, beneath our feet,

Other species get the heat.

Bolts hit, burning quick,

Causing bushfires, the time ticks,

Speeding faster, spreading out,

Kills its prey without a doubt.

The Downy Wattle gets it all,

Acacia Pubescens no more.

Small and yellow,

Innocent and mellow,

But when the fire thrashes,

The wattle is now ashes,

All hope is forgotten,

And now the flower rottens.

There must be a solution

To stop this revolution,

To save the Downy Wattle.