The escape of the woylie

Swish, swoosh, the woylie dashes, 

Like the wind it swiftly passes. 

Hiding from a predator near, 

It’s lurking close without any fear. 

A stealthy shadow creeps in the night, 

The fox is hunting, seeking sight. 

Sniff, snuff, the fox catches scent, 

Springs to action, sharp and bent. 

Carrying young in a pouch so tight, 

The woylie races, swift and light. 

Through the trees, it seeks its home, 

Waiting for the fox to roam. 

All was quiet as danger passed,

Peace returned, for a land so vast.