A hole is in the dirt. Mud stains the fence. The plants are withered by the heat. There is only so much time until the seasons change. Grass prospers in the corners. I'm buying new plants.

I'll put them behind the walls. I'll spill some sun on the trees. Back up the porcelain stairs, to the roof of my home. I can't wait to be part of the dim, blue sky. The trees are already silhouettes. They're the last sight. The road is getting vague now.

The owner will help. The professionals couldn't salvage the yard, but I feel like I can restore it. The dirt is wet and green. Night clears the gravel. It's just a moat after dark.