Earl Grey is the tea of spring, of Lent, of modest sacrifices
Grit melts and grinds along the sidewalks as winter ends, grey & gravelly
Imposing ashes leaves grey traces not easily scrubbed out of the ridges & whorls of my thumb
Still working on the faith of a child, but with the faith of Kris Kringle you can move molehills, or even Long Island real estate! This blog is a rap to the head of Mr. Sawyer, or for anyone wanting to wake up and smell the peppermint latte.
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