Millions of moths,
Bogong they’re called.
Fluttering down Bong Bong Street
And on yachts, where they’re moored.

Covering the Pines,
Near Kiama Blowhole.
Dancing on Bottlebrush
Sharing Little Corella’s pole.

Is the Daisy Spring Festival
What they’ve come here for?
Dislike them or love them,
They’re hard to ignore.

Like a frolic of fairies
Such a magical site.
The whisper of moths
Fly towards light.

Inside people’s homes,
Moths are clustering on walls.
Finding cracks in the door,
They’re inundating halls.

Then we awake one morning
And the spell has been broken.
“Bogongs begone!”
Must have been spoken.

An eclipse of mocha
Migrating to Australian Alps caves.
Leaving Kiama’s shore,
Saying goodbye to crystal blue waves.

This poem was recently published in the The Bugle News in Kiama, NSW.

Photo by Linda Davidson

This post was scheduled for Monday 19th October, however we are currently having problems behind the scenes with the ACP website. Please accept our apologies.