Ode To Black Peppercorns
You wait solid in your round blackness
captive in glass.
Started as a fledgling a small bud
picked by a stranger’s hands.
Dried in the air on rooftops
life emptying from you.
From across the Chinese seas, you have travelled
with a twist you’re crushed.
The aroma of bittersweet ashes and oak
attack the senses.
The provocative pleasure you bring
to every dish that’s sprinkled.
Wars have been won and lost
for the value, you did not seek.
In ancient times your worth
was more than one could speak.
Copyright © Valerie Maratzzi | Year Posted 2020
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