Green and Grey
He zipped open the flap of his tent, crawled out, took a deep breath
The sun shined in a clear blue sky where stars and galaxies glowed in the dark
He was alive, the forest was too, pine and maple, the air smelled fresh
Then remembered that meeting to make, on his laptop, waited to connect
An earthworm caught his eye, crawled out the damp soil, it sighed
I can’t go back, staring at screens, stuck at my seat
The one at office, the one in my car, couch, the toilet
The sound of dew drops on his tent, delicate and melodious
Betrays the crash and pour of nature’s fury to come
He had made his mind, he now knew what he wanted
A familiar face appears on the screen
“I quit” he says
She spent the better half of the first hour at her desk
Trying to reach him, skipped breakfast again, dose of traffic
The daily grind, coffee beans, city dwellers, corporate gears
Nothing is white anymore, nothing is black either
I crawl under the city and now climb atop it
The room was silent, could hear the screaming streets below
If she wasn’t paying attention to the hundred or so on the floor
And thousands or more in the tower, she sat there
Staring at the screen, drifting away like everyone else
Waiting for someone or something, unlike anything else
A familiar face appears on the screen
“Maybe I should too” she says