The Life of a Pygmy Possum

As I huddle in my gum tree hollow,

the sun goes down and the moon will follow.

Then what I see from my large black eye

is a Bogong moth, flying by.

Out of my home and over the branch I scurry,

I leap from a rock and reach out in a hurry

so I can catch my breakfast in outstretched claws,

Then gobble it up, wings and all.

The moon is up and high already,

this will be another night of scurrying steady.

I push through a native shrub

and find myself facing a feral fox cub.

It yowls a cry of pure delight,

I squeal of terror and of fright

and so I avoid it's nasty bite,

I duck into a bush and stay for the night.

In the morning I head back home,

where Pygmy possums should freely roam.