Thylacine

Walking in Cradle mountain,

The Southern point,

Of the Southerlty world.

I see the Echidna,

The Wallaby, and

Tasmanian Devils,

Lumbering in the bush.

And a duck-billed platypus

Confounds,

As it slips below the water.

In the oceans by St Helen’s,

Dolphin and seals abound.

-

I wander without,

Over wetlands, grasslands,

rivers and lakes.

I wonder why I wander,

What this could do without.

-

For a moment, a shadow,

A passing rustle,

A stolen glance.

For will I see it,

Even by night,

Or will a rock painting,

Spring it back to life.

-

My joy is bleak,

The jungle bare,

As a Thylacine,

A Tasmanian Tiger,

Greets me in my sleep.

For when I awake

In an empty land,

There are no tigers there.

I feel as exitinct,

But not as rare.