Emerson Burkhart’s Easel

emerson b

Emerson Burkhart’s Easel

the fireflies have returned
they whisper to night-crawlers
that bathe in the clover
after a Monday night shower
they warn the worms
of carp in the Scioto

the fireflies appear again
they mumble to the crickets
as clouds drift eastward
under June’s half moonlight

when the fireflies come back
to the weeds by the alley
they signal the bats
to attack the sirens

as fireflies arrive
the peach tree chants
blueberries sing
to the owl in the oak

About orangeacorn

We are, I believe, and everything is, in perpetual unfolding/enfolding/evolving. By surface appearances, we're in turmoil and fearfullness, but in fact our existence is on the edge of a new way, beyond the US versus THEM we have grown with. I encourage you to join me over coffee or tea in face-to-face encounters. I call this exercise, "CAFFEINE COMMUNION: Encounters with Paradigm Pioneers." I'm a Columbus, Ohio husband, father and citizen. I practice string band sounds from the ridges of Pocahontas County, West Virginia, the vortex of the ancient drone.
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