The thylacine

The ancient thylacine roared

over the ancient land 

under the cabbage palm, a den, a thylacine den

two pups, one week old barely opened their eyes

feeding on their mothers milk a brown bandicoot searching for food in the moonlight.

The soft moon beams shine on the quokkas fur 

under the cabbage palm tree 

in my front yard 

sugar gliders glide through the moonlight beams stroking the dingos back like a peaceful river flowing down a snowy mountain range 

a roar shatters the peace 

a thylacine under a ghost gum the generation has started

again