Bay of Fires
Where does time escape to
Here we are, in the Bay of Fires.
Even amidst the chill and frosts of Tasmanian winter
I find myself soothed and fed by fire
it warms me right now at the mouth of the cove
It pours through me, into his stream, and his into mine
Our fire can be bright and roaring,
Flickering and dancing and wildly contagious
It can be silent morning coals
breathing slow and burning long
As our bones are waned to rest
Either way, it keeps me warm
Cold nights still crisp in memory
I cherish those too.