Waiting for Green

I watched from the window,
On the stationary road -
The engine beneath me
Growling impatience -
The banks of grass,
Withered in the sand
And rippling with the tongue
of the restless, spitting wind.

Each blade, bent at the waist,
Reached upwards and out
Or else bowed to the concrete,
Kissing the gravel,
Moved only by the breeze,
And seen in my eyes -
The sadness of the scene
Blanketed in grey.

It occured in my head,
The thought that if I
Were trapped to my navel
In sand, I might scream,
I might wail my misfortune,
And once I was tired
Might just let go my struggle
And then wait to die.

Mother Nature, in tarred chains,
Head lifted by breeze
And pushed down by rain,
Cannot care for the grass,
Cannot care for the sand
Which imprisons the grass,
Cannot care for the sea
Which swallows the sand.

Her delicate creations
Were placed in our hands,
Not as gifts but for tending,
Not to keep but to watch -
Or maybe we took them,
Snatched them away
And then slaughtered and dined on
The feast that we made.

My car travelled on
From Standstill Lane,
And the moon and sun
Both encircled us all,
And we all moved on -
Each grew and became
Ourselves more than before -
While the Earth waited still.

It has seen us all live,
It will see us all die,
And though soon we will end
It will pass us all by;
Those blades will bend down
For whoever there may be
Sitting in their car,
Waiting for green.