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.