is the worst possible method of acquiring information.
i never like what i learn & i refuse to listen 
to reporters who dress in colors you won’t find in the
woods: horrible dark greys, blacks, & maroons. 

          seeking answers, i take matters 
          into my own hands: i walk around & ask 
          every animal i see on a scale of 1 to 10, 
          how endangered do you feel today? 

i would ask my friends, too, but we all spend
enough time thinking about extinction as it is
& i don’t want to be a buzzkill. instead: 
what is your favorite naturally-occurring shade of green? 

          response one: the underside 
          of late November pine needles that grace 
          the surface of the pond, photosynthetic clusters of
          foliage dotting the water: dark & murky & thick 

someone else says: the smooth, pale green 
thin skin of an inchworm, smaller than my 
pinky finger & in no rush to absorb 
however many sweet-gum leaves he can stomach 

          & a third contribution, my own: 
          muted olive tufts of moss that pepper 
          the forest floor, the drab dried-out clumps 
          catching the last drops of a setting sun 

not 5 miles from here, white oak trees are spray-painted,
tagged, chopped down, & carted away, all 
before lunchtime. i glue myself to Instagram
accounts of scientists unspooling good climate news! 

          but none of the shades of green on my phone
          are real enough. i need something 
          i can touch, taste, try to save. nothing new: 
          we are thirsting for knowledge we can trust.

Em Townsend is the author of two chapbooks: Astronaut of Loss (Alien Buddha Press, 2025) and growing forwards / growing backwards (Bottlecap Press, 2023). Featured work appears in Gone Lawn, Chestnut Review, Verse Daily, West Trade Review, Frozen Sea, Unbroken Journal, and elsewhere. Read more: https://townsend31.wixsite.com/emtownsend