GRASS IN THE WIND
Written while at work in my office job.
Bight green grass with shines of lime yellow ebbing in the wind.
Blades leaning with the breeze,
being swept to the will of the air- confident in their roots grounding them to Earth.
Their home.
My home, to which I am due a visit.
To roll in the fields,
staining my clothes and muddying my socks.
Taking bits with me in my hair,
I want to be marked by nature- have evidence of the relationship drawn across me.
Instead I am stuck statically bound to the dull white of a corporate box.
A truly unnatural thing.