It’s not hard to grow,
But it is hard to harvest.
Only two threads per flower,
All of them handpicked.
Hands are what make it so valuable.
The warmth of your paella comes from sun-baked skin,
The luminosity of your rice from bright eyes,
The musty smokiness of your stew from another’s sweat.
From their hand to your mouth.
From Kashmir to Kensington.
One person feeds another
across continents.