While walking round the forest heath <br />The night began to fall <br />The temperature did likewise drop <br />An owl began to call <br /> <br />Too whit, too woo, Too whit, too woo <br />It came both loud and clear <br />To echo across the barren heath <br />Where rodents paused in fear <br /> <br />And then there came a piercing shriek <br />From over by some rocks <br />And sillouetted against the moon <br />The outline of a fox <br /> <br />The nocturnal hunter in his blood <br />Would start his trek for food <br />And scavenge anything it found <br />To feed his motley brood <br /> <br />Across the moon a movement flashed <br />Flying erratic, as if lost <br />The shadow of a horseshoe bat <br />Using aerobatics, to catch the moths <br /> <br />If you stand and listen quietly <br />To the dark enshrouded night <br />Its not as empty as it seems <br />But alive with things that bite <br /> <br />And these are but a few of them <br />Also badgers that hunt and play <br />Away from daytimes prying eyes <br />For our night time is their day.<br /><br />Graham Jones<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-forest-heath/
