A red glow hums from the,

Neighbors yard.

It lurks-

Underneath the brush,

Thick tangled grass and bush. 

Leaves as big as your hand,

Stretching fingers.

Reach towards the light,

Like glass.

Tea leaves or something, 

They always bleed green.

Sticky green blood sticks to my fingers for what feels like eternity.

I think there used to be a fence there,

But whatever decades have taken it away.

The light glows into the PMs,

I can see it from the kitchen.

Where I cradle a glass of milk,

Hiding beneath the oven clock.

Scratching my fingers against the granite

Countertop the same way I have for a decade.

And look it’s starting to rain,

It rains here a lot.

There’s a ditch in that yard,

From the many millions of puddles formed and deformed.

What a thousands days can do to the land,

Yet here it grows-

Same as before,

With new neighbors to watch it.