The Donegal Ruin

On the breast of a hill
Near to the foot of Errigal
Windowless and doorless

Once sheltering
Human life-
The sound of
Little feet and
The music of
An ancient tongue

A mother's breadmaking
Over a fire of turf
And a father's stories
Of a fairy race...

A ruin of skeletal grace
And Errigal winds playing
Melodies through the rafters