Kitchen Alchemy

Late light is failing. I open the door.

The fridge hums low, a familiar sound.

And there, on the second shelf, what’s more,

a jar of onions, deeply drowned.

Weeks ago, I chopped them fine,

red disks submerged in cloudy brine.

Now tiny bubbles start to rise,

like secrets shared beneath the ice.

A slow conversion, quiet, deep.

What happens when the world's asleep?

A transformation, taking hold,

a story waiting to unfold.