The Claraghatlea Rill

On my flights of fancy time seems to stand still
It lives in  my memory the Claraghatlea rill
Flowing in the flat fields from high Claramore
On towards the rivers to the Atlantic shore
The songs of the dark brown white breasted dippers in my memory today
In rural Ireland they frequent every waterway
Distinctive in their appearance and in their scratchy song
Once seen and once heard you never again get them wrong
In the Claraghatlea rill birds often heard and seen
In the memory they remain of  the what has been
Of my younger years of decades ago
Long before time itself became my foe
Of the Claraghatlea rill good memories with me does stay
As on towards the big rivers it babbles it's way.