A man meets his wealthy friend at a traffic signal and cannot help noticing the gap between them. He rides an old scooter and carries a battered phone, while his friend has a Mercedes, a Blackberry and a business worth crores. The details are small and sharp: the friend's cologne-scented shirt seems to wrinkle its nose at the speaker's faded cotton, with its missing button.
The friend then talks proudly about his vision of a great tree full of life, his green farmland and his clean, careful factory. The speaker mostly listens. A quiet note of pride slips in when he remembers saving his friend from drowning, a debt that money seems to have buried.
The ending turns to Osho's advice not to compare. The speaker accepts it, though a little wryly ("I guess"). Giant redwoods and coarse grass both have a place. The mood is gentle and humble, with a trace of envy and a touch of dry humor.