by Jnana Hodson

bid on property and it’s a crap shoot
with neighbors, whether they’ll be the kind
who call the cops on your kids weekly

or they’re the broken-glass crowd with loud music
running into Sunday morning or they’ll obstruct
your driveway and let newspapers fly everywhere

in this instance, my clan quickly interacted
mostly with households along the street behind us,
the ones with small children and an annual block party

the ones who told me the fire department issues
burn permits and that’s how I’d rid myself
of three debris hillocks in this swamp

here is where I’ve settled
here I live
with all the rest, beginning with my Lady of Advent
and the Gingerbread Castles

somewhere, she collects bittersweet strands
a decorative swag

and for Thanksgiving and Christmas Day dinners
I cut frost-sweetened Brussels sprouts from the snow

poem copyright 2014 by Jnana Hodson