Apparently,
failure is delicious;
so many of my hungry neighbors
seem to wait for it to show up
then dive upon it open-mouthed,
wet-jawed.

I can’t share that appetite,
perhaps because there have been
so many times when my own tongue
on my own skin caught a trace
of that flavor, and I looked up
and saw myself as prey.

The failures start screaming
as the raveners approach.
I do my best to get between them
but then I wake up. There’s a
taste in my mouth that’s worse
than normal, or maybe it is normal.

August and it’s clear
that she’s aiming for autumn again:
dark in the early morning again,
dark in the early evening again. 

If you asked Gaia
what it feels like
as she turns through a solstice,

would she sniffle a bit
at how comet-hearted,
hard-headed time was treating you,

or would she point to Australia
and say 

it’s their turn now so stop whining.
How quickly you’ve gone sour,
nature lover, now that your turn
is ending.

Tomorrow, it will be
dark in the early evening, 
dark in the early morning — 
much as it was here today,
and it will be the same in Perth
as it is here.  

Gaia moves,
the Wheel moves;

you should prepare
for coming cold 
as your doppelganger in Perth
should get ready for summer;

your crestfallen sense
of wasted time should be balanced 
by your double’s joy in anticipation;

and you both should know
that to Gaia neither will make
the least bit of difference.