............ I was just minding my own business when I found myself on their straw hillsides, citron and butter-colored, and was happy, and why not? Are not the difficult labors of our lives full of dark hours? And what has consciousness come to anyway, so far, that is better than these light-filled bodies? All day on their airy backbones they toss in the wind, they bend as though it was natural and godly to bend, they rise in a stiff sweetness, in the pure peace of giving one's gold away. excerpt from 'Goldenrod'