The south field glowed at night

I'm walking the south field at night and every tomato plant is lit up from the inside, like they swallowed a lantern. The soil is warm under my boots in a way it never is after sundown, and I keep thinking I should be worried about frost, but the warmth keeps following me row by row. Then I look down and my hands are covered in red juice that won't wash off, and I wake up with my fingers still tingling like I'd been harvesting for hours.