River Mill

In appreciation

I walked the millrace to its head

three hundred paces and more
stepping out the years
to when mud-splattered men
fed by their patient women
fashioned stone
of sluice gate and bridge
of nearby lime kiln

already waist-deep in history
the Boyne's victory settling
at the planter’s mill
they dug deep the levelled race
their labourer’s mutterings unheard
as wet boots shucked
to bawdy blether of passers-by

the land’s oats and grain
scythed on model fields
rid of stones to line the race
wait on religious men
to grind their daily bread
to believe in trade and progress
a better place than was given

children shout and run to
that first rush of water 
following the channel 
muddy at first 
to the pond and sluice
life surges in their place 
towards a golden heaven

a crowd strains to see
as water spills
onto the big iron wheel
labouring in its first turn
hesitant and slow
yet relentless now 
stone against stone 

grinding out our future
and we are moved
in this place
to read to write
to scratch out words
and listen 
for distant whisperings

River Mill Writer's Retreat, Grange Walls, Co Down.