Waving at the angels
Waving at the angels
Dancing with the wind
The giant mills of Carnsore
Maintain a constant whirr.
At the eastern tip of Ireland
Where the ocean meets the sea
On ancient rocks which date
Four hundred million years.
Lighting up the homes
Of Broadway and Kilmore
Saving carbon credits
With many more in store.
Don Quijote would be proud
Of mills that throw their shadows
On pleasant lands that meet the sky
Reminiscent of La Mancha.
Tacumshane will be Toledo
If only for a day
Its ancient mill restored
Where once the Normans stayed.
The little lights atop the turbines
Shining through the night
A guide to our survival
By getting Paris right.
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