Benevolent Design

Did Gaia turn to Venus
one morning, and ask:
“Sister, does the crust
make me look fat?
I’m feeling a little round
these days, I must confess.”

And did Venus examine her
with one yellow-shadowed
and expert eye, and reply:
“I think you’ve been putting
on land mass around your
equator. You might try
freezing some water near
the poles.
And you’ll have to stop
harbouring life, of course.”

And if she did, did Gaia sigh
and shrug up the Himalayas,
and admit in an undertone:
“I know it’s getting out of hand.
It’ll go straight to the atmosphere,
and don’t I just know they’ll
muddy up my oceans. But
all the same, they’re so—amusing!”

And perhaps Venus nodded
and with a warning frown
pointed outwards to say:
“I’d be careful if I were you.
It was all the rage in the
old days, but now, you
know, even Europa’s being
practical. They might
start to talk if you don’t
tone it down. Life—
well, it’s just not done
my dear.”

And Gaia, was she motherly
by nature? Did she bow Atlantis
ruefully, and murmur:
“And yet—I’m rather fond of
Life.”