Its source and start a secret,
Its journey wild and worn...
From maybe spring well hidden,
A river then was born.

But this one was quite different,
It fame would know no bounds...
Flowing to north, instead of south,
It sang of sights and sounds.

Some calming and so soothing,
Others wild and scary too...
Smaller streams rushed to join in,
So the river grew and grew.

Its chosen path, not very long,
In fact seems a bit short...
When it joins with the Potomac,
Like ship that's reached its port.

The Shenandoah River,
With scenery breath-taking...
A master piece of handiwork,
Perfection with its making.

Loree (Mason) O'Neil
© 2008 August 02

Website

Job 28: 9 ~ 10
He putteth forth His hand upon
the rock; He overturneth the
mountains by the roots.

He cutteth out rivers among
the rocks; and His eye seeth
every precious thing.