From Rossano’s red earth, a bitter-sweet root runs deep, dark as memory beneath Calabria the green licorice plant leans from its painted jar, leaves brushing the long southern boot on an old map of the Two Sicilies

Since 1731, Amarelli has tended what the ground was willing to give: root sticks rough as kindling, black sweetness held inside: Candies shine like river stones beside the brass scale’s patient weights, while the worn mortar remembers hands, hard work, and faith in old ways

Wooden boxes and paper packets have traveled by ship, shop, and suitcase, carrying a little coast and hillside to folks far from home. It ain’t sugar alone

It is soil, weather, labor, and a family staying close to the land, and here in Manitoba, where the wind worries every fence line, I understand that kind of love: Therefore, let Calabria keep its sunlit hills, and Amarelli carry its red earth on the tongue

Thank you for the use of the art/picture for my writings

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