In Canto 30 of Paradise, Dante

sings of the laughter of grass.

I am almost there now. Running

on Angel Loop, I rub shoulders

with tall mountain marigold

and goldeneye, a festival

of yellow, some blue

trumpet shapes, some red.

My favorite bald rock stretches

steep into the yellow. Yesterday

I tickled grass. I wanted to

hear laughter, but it was just

crickets rubbing legs in the wind.

I will likely never understand

why we need darkness when

we yearn and strive for light. I get

the concept of duality. Only my heart

is obstinate and wishes to believe

pure light is possible. Meanwhile         

a lizard dives face first under

a ledge as I ponder scorpions

and roses. I wish the lizards trusted me.

To them I am one of the shadows

of darkness. Still I want to belong

to light, to laughter, to lizards

believing in love. Today

grass tickled me. There are asters too

now, yellow centers full of summer

scent and whispering goodbye.