A Mason Jar, Full of Lightning Bugs

Ohio summer, hot & humid.

Comanches.

That’s what my Pop called us.

His boys.

Life was sweet and easy.

We played until dark.

mosquito bites and cuts.

Bruised and filthy.

We played.

The night called to us, with a voice wild and sensuous.

The lightning bugs flickered like gems in a jeweled dome.