Nicolette L. Cagle, September 11, 2026
Even when I bring sadness to the river, the water sings. It works with the cobbles to burble and with the boulders to rush; it tinkles like a clarion bell and shushes soothingly like a kind grandmother.
Filtered through the music of the river, my sadness is purified, as limpid and crisp as pure joy. Now I can look to the morning sky and be one with the hopeful light. Now I can turn my ears to the birds and rejoice with the hammering woodpecker. Now I can feel the red clay beneath my feet and root myself deeply in the raw material of life.
Even when I bring sadness to the river, the water sings, and I gladly join its chorus.
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