Barking dogs and crickets
The rumble of a train
A dickhead in a Holden ute
Bags it up three streets away
The streetlights cast a shadow
On the tin and fibro walls
The sun's been gone for hours
Still a haywire cocky calls
Through the night
The sounds continue
The endless droning from the mine
Watched over by the moon
And the stars, there is a sign
Of a teapot constellation
As it penetrates the dark
Of an unremarkable existence
A reality that is stark
Night Sounds
