The MIlls of Collooney

Grotesque mountains enclose the green valley
where the mills of Collooney once stood,
grinding corn for oppressed and oppressors
at the river that runs through the wood.

And the waters still flow through the village,
and the wood and the mountains endure
where the tireless mills of Collooney
once were feeding the rich and the poor.

But the wheels are removed and stand idle
like a church bell deprived of its chime
as the tireless mills of Collooney
have been ground by the Mill of Time.