Mason Jar Warriors

One scorching, burning light infernally infusing every corner

On a deep southern evening

Finally releasing its grip and melting into  

Pulses of cool, bright light

Beckoning the barefooted, mason jar warriors

From their air conditioned perches.

Sweaty, grimy small fingers grasping gently the glow of their prey

Expertly captivating their brightly, pulsing game into glass prison lanterns.

Clamp, clink, screw.

Prisoners are secure.

A temporary lantern throbbing constantly and

Desperately.

A Bright call for love goes unanswered

And finally begins to fade once held.