March By The Finnow

Behind the gray clouds the sun is hidden away
Where the old Finnow River is babbling today
In the flat damp fields where the rushes do grow
In the home of the rook and the silver backed crow
Far north of here even as the migratory birds do fly
Close to if not more than twenty thousand kilometers of sky
No cattle out of wintering sheds yet in the fields where the waterways meet
In the old countryside near the Town of Millstreet
A cool weather temperature high for the day of seven degrees
With a drizzling rain in the strengthening breeze
That blow from the hills shrouded in the fogs of rain
And brown storm water flowing in every field drain
In mid March a little too early yet for birds to nest and sing
Though leaf buds on the deciduous trees tell of the approaching Spring.