Winter Return

~~ Lyra Fenelle, 21 June 2025

I came to watch the fire—

not for rare dishes, nor for wine,

but for that brief flare

when fresh wood meets flame,

a burst of sparks—

like an old dream quietly blooming

in a kitchen’s shadowed corner.

The food was lovely

but the fire was richer.

I may forget what I ate,

but I’ll remember

how the flames once danced for me.

On my way home,

I took the long path through pines.

Deep within the forest,

a singing bowl echoed,

resin softened the air,

and the wind whispered low.

The sun turned to gold,

slipping through a thousand needles,

resting lightly in my palms—

warm, and clear.

Auckland’s winter says nothing—

only glowing softly,

quietly.

And on this day,

the year’s shortest,

the light did not fade—

it shifted,

and began

to return.