after Herodotus

To be counted among the perfumes of Arabia,
cassia and frankincense and myrrh
and the dried out sticks which we have learned
from the Phoenicians to call cinnamon.
They are gathered by large birds which carry them
to their nests made of mud on mountain precipices
that no man can climb nor woman.
Eventually the nests collapse under the weight
of the sticks and thus the cinnamon falls
to the ground and from there we collect it.
This is how things were. This is how things are.
It has not rained here for two years.
The trees and the grasses have died. The rivers are dry.
And I find, my dear friend,
that I have not the heart to tell you more
about the perfumes of Arabia—except for this— 
the whole country exhaled once a more than earthly fragrance.