There is parity here, the spring in the southern hemisphere, the fall here in the north.

I told a friend, I must do my dance.

He wondered what dance I would do.

I told him I would do the dance that was necessary.

The dying of the light that Dylan Thomas raged against, I must accept.

The light dies, and yet is reborn.

So there is never a time where the light does not rule.

It’s just that you might not always be there.

One could live a life dancing from one hemisphere to another.

I could fly away to Australia in the winter. Australia could fly to me in our summer.

In a California summer, we were together and yet I told my friend she could not understand America from that point of view.

I needed to bring her kicking and screaming to a New England winter where at last she might understand.

How our boots wear out and how we hate it and love it at the same time.

I told her that there is nothing like the struggle with snow. It causes you to stamp on it, curse it, shovel it, but it is there like cement on your doorstep. It says “deal with me”.

There is meanness in the world now. Like a perpetual winter. It is the meanness of fear.

I want my Aussie friends here, and to fight with me. They who have always understood that we get through no seasons without each other. There are no bad words for that.