The Rhythm of the Land

by Nicolette L. Cagle, July 22, 2026, Sennett’s Hole, Durham, NC

The air is thick with the reverberations of cricket frogs that clatter, katydids that creak, and birds that burr. Between the pulsing choruses and punctuated calls, the river chatters, babbling over boulders and burbling through descending levels of metamorphic rock. A gentle wind pushes through the humidity, but its susurrations are as quiet as the tadpoles in the rocky pools and the damselfly perched patiently on the shore.

I catch myself swaying slightly, unaware that I have caught the rhythm of the land, an old beat being borne through my bones. The sound of distant laughter, bright and clear, brings me back. Goldfinches fly overhead, twittering to each other, aligning their calls with their undulating flight. The cricket frogs bid me adieu.