Through the rocky soil.
Past the high standing mountains,
That rise into the clouds.
It winds its way
Through the thick, unforgiving fog.
Past the midnight city,
That sleeps, no longer abuzz.
It winds its way
Through the sunny, open plains.
In the fields the children play,
By the water, they shriek with laughter.
It winds its way
To the oceans, big and blue.
Past the fishing boats it passes,
From the currents it spews.
William the Conqueror
William, I love this repeating line poem about the river. It makes me want to hop into a canoe and float the river to the ocean. Wouldn't that be a great adventure? :)
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