The Stranger's Recipe

A weary traveller came at fall of night,
To where a silent, guarded village lay.
Each door was barred against another’s plight,
For poverty had driven trust away.

He begged for bread, yet none would share a meal;
Their cupboards held too little to divide.
Then with a stone he made a simple deal,
And in the pot the simmering water sighed.

A pinch of salt, some butter, beans, and meat,
Were added one by one from doubtful hands.
Its fragrant scent spread warmly through the street,
And drew the lonely villagers in bands.

They learned no magic slumbered in the stone:
True wealth is found when kindness had been shown.

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