Jarful of July

[Intro: Soft Male Choir, Serene Ambience]
[instructions: slow, sustained male choir hums; minimal percussion; airy cathedral reverb]

[Verse 1]
Bare feet on the porch boards, screen door on a spring,
creek water in a coffee can, cicadas in the trees.
Supper was whenever, and the day went on for years,
and the dark came up so slow and sweet you never saw it near.

[Pre-Chorus]
Then the yard would start its blinking, like the stars had come down low,
and we'd run out with our mason jars to catch the little glow.

[Chorus]
A jarful of July — holes punched in the lid,
a lantern made of lightning bugs, the treasure of a kid.
And mama on the porch step saying, "sugar, by first light,
you let 'em go — they're only yours for just this summer night."
'Cause summer's not for keeping, it's for running through the grass,
it's for sweet corn and for thunder and for wishing it would last.
So catch it while it's glowing, hold it up against the sky —
then open up the lid and let it fly... your jarful of July.

[Verse 2]
Now it's meetings in the morning and the AC's steady hum,
and the summers last a weekend, and the fireflies don't come.
But tonight the cut grass caught me, walking out to move the car —
and I stood there in the driveway like a jar without a star.

[Pre-Chorus]
So I kicked my shoes off right there, in the middle of the lawn,
and the yard — I swear — it blinked at me. The glow was never gone.

[Bridge]
You can't put summer in a savings account, can't stack it in the shed —
it only pays in porch nights and in peaches, ripe and red.
And every single lightning bug is winking the same thing:
"the glow is in the letting go." So glow. And loose the string.

[Outro]
Now there's little ones out running where the yard turns dim and deep,
with a mason jar between them and a promise they can't keep.
And I'm mama on the porch step now: "by morning, hon — goodbye."
That's how you hold forever... one jarful of July.

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[Intro: Soft Male Choir, Serene Ambience] [instructions: slow, sustained male choir hums; minimal percussion; airy cathedral reverb] [Verse 1] Bare feet on the porch boards, screen door on a spring, creek water in a coffee can, cicadas in the trees. Supper was whenever, and the day went on for years, and the dark came up so slow and sweet you never saw it near. [Pre-Chorus] Then the yard would start its blinking, like the stars had come down low, and we'd run out with our mason jars to catch the little glow. [Chorus] A jarful of July — holes punched in the lid, a lantern made of lightning bugs, the treasure of a kid. And mama on the porch step saying, "sugar, by first light, you let 'em go — they're only yours for just this summer night." 'Cause summer's not for keeping, it's for running through the grass, it's for sweet corn and for thunder and for wishing it would last. So catch it while it's glowing, hold it up against the sky — then open up the lid and let it fly... your jarful of July. [Verse 2] Now it's meetings in the morning and the AC's steady hum, and the summers last a weekend, and the fireflies don't come. But tonight the cut grass caught me, walking out to move the car — and I stood there in the driveway like a jar without a star. [Pre-Chorus] So I kicked my shoes off right there, in the middle of the lawn, and the yard — I swear — it blinked at me. The glow was never gone. [Chorus] A jarful of July — holes punched in the lid, a lantern made of lightning bugs, the treasure of a kid. And mama on the porch step saying, "sugar, by first light, you let 'em go — they're only yours for just this summer night." 'Cause summer's not for keeping, it's for running through the grass, it's for sweet corn and for thunder and for wishing it would last. So catch it while it's glowing, hold it up against the sky — then open up the lid and let it fly... your jarful of July. [Bridge] You can't put summer in a savings account, can't stack it in the shed — it only pays in porch nights and in peaches, ripe and red. And every single lightning bug is winking the same thing: "the glow is in the letting go." So glow. And loose the string. [Outro] Now there's little ones out running where the yard turns dim and deep, with a mason jar between them and a promise they can't keep. And I'm mama on the porch step now: "by morning, hon — goodbye." That's how you hold forever... one jarful of July.

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