The New River

The New River

White water churns, as the New River flows;

Currents like dreams, swirl all of the day long, 

Sun in sky burns, down the course as it goes;

All fed by streams, from the mountains so strong.


Winding it’s way, thru the palisade flanks.

Born from it’s source, with majesty imbued.

Whiling the day, angling fish by green banks;

Northbound by course, mountain range’s subdued.


The river shines, from the zenith Sun’s glare.

The willows bend, o’er the deep and still.

Whip-or-wills pine, the river doesn’t care;

Just holds it trend, keeps going as it will.


Old and arcane, it’s life to deliver;

Never to wane, love of the New River.

Philip Kent Church
Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Winter 2012