Cinnamon

 

 

 

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                                               Cinnamon

 

 

It seems cinnamon has always been

Scented trees among the panoply

Lending the air sweet perfume

Rolling down green hillsides

Towards a sapphire sea

 

The treasure of another time

When spices, like gold,

Were sought throughout the world

And men climbed mountains to strip the bark

To garnish a cake…in England

 

Today cinnamon is still here

Straight trees among the panoply

Still a treasure, in new ways

With roots in old plantation days

When life was simple and Seychelles-slow

And cinnamon was all you had to grow